No Strings Attached
by NoMoreJacksPlz
Summary: AU romantic comedy. Lorelai and Christopher's unconventional relationship just might lead them to love, and Rory becomes increasingly intrigued by her enigmatic boss, Logan.
1. Perfume and Eggs

**CHAPTER 1 - PERFUME AND EGGS**

**THANKSGIVING**

"Mom, the turkey was delicious," Lorelai Gilmore assured her mother Emily as they, her father Richard, and Lorelai's boyfriend Luke Danes stood in the foyer of the elder Gilmores' mansion, which was one of the oldest and grandest homes in Hartford, Connecticut.

"Did you think so? I thought it was a tad dry," Emily stated, eyebrows pinched together skeptically. "Carolina is from El Salvador, you know, and I don't think they're used to baking turkeys down there. It's so warm, why would you want to bake anything? I should have known better than to trust a reference from Judy Wandsneider."

Lorelai glanced over Emily's shoulder and saw Carolina, Emily's current maid, retrieving their coats from the closet. She had a feeling that this would be the last time she saw Carolina. Maids never lasted long at Emily Gilmore's house.

Luke noticed Carolina as well, and tried to be helpful. "Emily, the turkey was wonderful. I have never had such a delicious turkey before in my life."

Emily glared at Luke. "You don't have to be patronizing, Luke. If you thought it was subpar, just say so."

Luke immediately clamped his mouth shut, a black cloud gathering above his head, and Lorelai bit her tongue. It was no secret to any of them that Emily didn't have a lot of love for Luke. Emily had always hoped that Lorelai would marry up, and was thrilled when her daughter moved to New York City after college to pursue a career in advertising. The Gilmores themselves had finally upgraded in the past few years from Lorelai's admittedly posh childhood home in tiny Stars Hollow to prime real estate in Hartford. When Lorelai's seemingly lifelong flirtation with Luke, the hometown diner owner whose wardrobe consisted almost entirely of flannel and a grungy baseball cap, and who had never traveled more than one state away from Connecticut in his life, had crossed over into an actual relationship five years ago, Emily had not hesitated to tell her daughter exactly what she thought of the decision.

"You're living in New York City now, Lorelai. Are you telling me there are no eligible men there who could possibly make a good match for you?" she had sniped upon hearing the news.

She had received a ripe retort in response. Lorelai and Emily had never gotten along well, and Emily's disapproval of Luke just made Lorelai want to date him more. Emily had interpreted this mulishness as the ultimate act of rebellion, and many thunderous battles had been waged in its wake. When it became clear that Lorelai and Luke were not going to split up any time soon, Emily's strategy had switched to using underhanded comments instead of outright venom to state her opinion, which was even more infuriating to Lorelai than the original tactic.

Richard helped Lorelai shrug into her coat. "Lorelai, are you sure you can't stay for coffee?" he asked. "We know you love your java."

Lorelai pressed her lips together. "You know, Dad, thanks for the offer, but we really have to get back to Stars Hollow. I don't usually get long weekends off, so we want to make the most of our time together." She darted her eyes in Emily's direction so her mother would know that Lorelai meant _sex_.

Having been rebuffed, Richard tried a different tack. "Luke, are you sure you can't convince our daughter to stay?"

Luke shook his head. "I think Lorelai is the boss of this decision," he said, neatly sidestepping the issue.

"Of course. She's always the boss," Emily muttered a little too loudly.

"Mother, I heard that," Lorelai snapped, eyes flashing.

Luke quickly put his hands on Lorelai's shoulders. "We should get going," he said, and a few seconds later, he and Lorelai were standing outside in the crisp November air, opening the doors to Luke's pickup truck.

* * *

To Luke's surprise, Lorelai was unusually quiet on the half-hour drive back to Stars Hollow. He didn't mention it, though, and enjoyed the silence. Usually Lorelai liked to talk his ear off, recounting the evening's events with disdainful relish, while Luke would have preferred to leave the arduous experience in the past. This was a nice change.

Over in the passenger seat, Lorelai was mulling over the conversation that had taken place over the customary pre-dinner drinks and the dinner itself. They'd covered the usuals: Richard's insurance company, Emily's work with the DAR and gossip on whose children were getting divorced and why, Lorelai's career as a creative director for a prominent Manhattan ad agency and what the latest advertising trends were, and Luke's opinions on breakfast menus and his observations about customers' egg preferences. Lorelai could practically recite her piece automatically, she'd given the same talk to her parents so many times before; but apparently it qualified as bonding in Emily and Richard Gilmore's book, and she wasn't about to put herself out thinking of fresh topics when the old ones would suffice. And yet…something about their conversation tonight gnawed at her. It hadn't been any different than any other time. She tried to put her finger on what it was, but came up empty.

"Lane's looking forward to seeing you," Luke said, intruding on her thoughts. Lane Kim was a young waitress at Luke's Diner who adored everything about Lorelai and always hung breathlessly on every word Lorelai spoke about living in the city and meeting glamorous clients. In Lorelai's opinion, this was largely due to Lane's upbringing in a strict Korean household where anything remotely resembling fun was sternly discouraged on account of its possibly sending you to hell.

"Huh?" she said, rousing from her reverie. "Oh, yeah, Lane. It'll be great to see her."

"Yeah, she talks about you all the time. She practically begged me to take her with us to your parents' house."

"Well, she could have gone in my place."

"That would kind of defeat the purpose of her going in the first place."

"True."

Lorelai returned to her thoughts. Now that this unfinished idea was churning in her mind, she couldn't let it go. What was it that was so unsettling her?

Luke turned the truck off the freeway, and within minutes, they were pulling up to the diner, where Luke had a small, sparsely furnished apartment upstairs.

Suddenly, it hit her.

"Luke," she said, putting her hand on his arm, "we need to talk."

"About what?" he asked, turning the ignition off.

"About us."

He looked at her with a shadow of trepidation in his face. "Can we go inside first?"

Lorelai hesitated. "I don't know if we should."

She reached out and took Luke's hand in hers, hoping he would understand.

* * *

Lorelai's roommate's eyes widened in surprise when she walked into their apartment and saw Lorelai sitting on the couch, flipping channels.

"Oh, my God, what are you doing here?" she asked, removing her scarf and hanging it on the slightly lopsided coat rack by the door. "You're supposed to be in Stars Hollow spending Thanksgiving with Luke."

"Rory!" Lorelai exclaimed happily, setting the remote down and quickly scooting into a cross-legged position. "Do you want the long version or the short version?"

Rory's eyebrows knitted together warily. "See, you look like you're setting up for the long version, so I have a feeling that if I say the short version, I'm just going to get the long version anyway. I'm being lulled into a false sense of choice."

Lorelai grinned. Rory Leigh knew her too well. Despite an age gap of over ten years -- Rory hadn't been out of college long and was just a junior copywriter at Huntzberger and Stiles, the ad agency where they worked -- the two had clicked instantaneously and become the best of friends. Even though they were vastly different in personalities -- Rory shy and bookish, Lorelai vivacious and chatty -- they understood each other like they had known each other all their lives. "It's freakish," Lorelai would often say, "but it's like we're sisters from another life." They did look a lot alike with their bright, sky-blue eyes, chestnut hair, and fair skin. It was a mistake that strangers often made about them, actually; they'd been asked many times if they were sisters. Sometimes, when Lorelai was feeling especially mischievous, she would toy with the question-askers and say they were mother and daughter, spinning an elaborate story about how she got pregnant in high school and ran away with Rory to make a better life for her. About half the time, the asker would stiffen up awkwardly; the other half, he or she (usually a she) would practically fall all over herself praising Lorelai and Rory for their incredible fortitude, using words like "brave" and "inspiration." Once, Lorelai and Rory even got free dessert from a well-dressed woman from Atlanta after telling the tale. ("It was the crème de la crème of crème brûlée," Lorelai liked to reminisce.) "You're terrible," Rory would chide Lorelai after each charade while shaking her head, but her eyes would twinkle too much when she spoke.

"I am not doing any lulling at all," Lorelai said, defending herself. "I am one hundred percent lull-less. I am lull-free and loving it. In fact, today is your lucky day, because I am willing to give the short version."

Rory raised a skeptical eyebrow. "And what would that be?"

"I broke up with Luke."

Rory's jaw fell open. "You what?"

"I broke up with Luke," Lorelai repeated.

"Say it again."

"I broke up with Luke."

Rory stared at her. "Are you sure? You don't seem too broken up over it." She came over to the couch and sat down next to Lorelai.

Lorelai sighed. "I had to."

"Was something wrong?"

Lorelai shook her head. "No, nothing was wrong. We didn't argue about anything that we don't normally argue over, which, by the way, includes the proper order for eating M&Ms. Everyone knows you eat the greens last, but he, for some reason unknown to man, sees no difference in the value of any of the colors. I have witnessed him eating a brown last and feeling no remorse."

"Barbarian."

"It's a very uncouth way to live. Anyhow, on the way back from my parents' house, I was sitting there, thinking about my mother's pointed barbs about Luke working at the diner and the fact that we weren't married and spawning like trout yet, even though we all know she can't stand him, and Luke talking about frying eggs as he always does when we have to eat with my parents and me talking about trying to land a perfume contract as _I_ always do when we have to eat with my parents, and I started thinking, what on earth do perfume and eggs have in common?"

"This narrative is becoming very James Joyce."

"Hold on, I'm getting there. And I started thinking about how I'm spending so much time planning trips back home to see him or for him to come and see me, and then it occurred to me that I have no plans to move back to Stars Hollow, and he has absolutely no interest in moving to New York, and I think he might actually have an allergic reaction if he had to live here."

"And your point is…" Rory motioned with her hand.

Lorelai looked Rory in the eyes. "We don't want the same things. I mean, we care about each other, we really do. We've known each other forever, and it was really romantic that he pined after me for so long before we finally got together, but, at the end of the day…I'm in New York, and he's in Stars Hollow. And my day is spent thinking about perfume, and his is spent thinking about eggs. And I don't see that ever really changing."

Rory nodded, looking a little sad but also understanding. Sometimes even the deals that looked the most solid could be broken. "So how did he take it?"

Lorelai sighed again. "Like Luke. Don't get me wrong, I really blindsided him. I guess he thought that after five years together, plus over a decade of flirting in the diner, he had it all locked up. Like we were common law boyfriend and girlfriend and it would take an act of God and a Red army to split us up. But no, he didn't cry, or yell, or inflict violence upon inanimate objects. He just nodded and asked me if I was sure and if I would reconsider, and when I said I was totally sure and that this was the right thing to do, he said he understood and he wished me the best and he would always be here for me if I needed him."

"Wow. So in other words, you crushed his tender heart into a thousand little pieces and he will never know the love of a good woman again."

"You make me sound so cold and heartless."

"It's a talent of mine."

"But I know I did the right thing," Lorelai said with conviction. "I want to get married someday and have a family, I always have. But I love my job, too. And I just realized, I want to be with someone who wants the same things that I do. Luke, as much as I care about him, is never going to be that guy. Remember when he asked me to go camping in Vermont with him with no electricity to be had for miles?" She shook her head. "Once I realized that, I knew that prolonging what we had was just going to keep me from meeting the guy who _is_ that guy. I don't want to wait forever."

Rory scooted next to Lorelai on the couch and wrapped her arms around her. "You are a crazy, amazing woman, and I'm proud to be your friend, roommate, and most loyal of fan club presidents," she said.

"Aww, you're great, too, Kid," Lorelai said, returning the hug. "So you don't think I was too cruel?"

"Well, I'm not going to say there aren't any freshly dented trash cans in Stars Hollow right now, but he'll see that it'll all work out for the best in the end."

"Aww. That's why you're the upcoming-est little copywriter at the agency. You can put the polish on even the smelliest turd."

"You do realize you just compared yourself to a turd, don't you?"

"I kind of deserve it, though." Lorelai curled her legs under her and gave Rory a look. "Speaking of the agency, how is it going working for Logan? I guess Daddy decided it was time for him to start acting like the heir apparent."

Rory squirmed a little. "Um…it's interesting."

Mitchum Huntzberger was one half of the senior partners of the Huntzberger and Stiles ad agency. Now in his 60s, Mitchum was stern and imposing, but he was also very smart, and it was those very character traits that had helped H&S rise to the top and make Mitchum a very wealthy man. Unfortunately for him, his dedication to his job had made him a less than perfect parent, and he had his playboy son Logan to show for it. After carousing his way through Yale, Logan had been dragged kicking and screaming into the world of advertising by his father, and in retaliation had spent the past few years putting a face to the word mediocrity while bedding a fair share of the better-looking female clients. Tired of Logan's games, Mitchum had promoted Logan to creative director, giving him his own team of copywriters, account managers, and artists, with the hope that Logan would swim rather than sink. So far, Logan had managed to keep his head above water, but with all the elegance of a fish flopping on dry land.

"That good, huh?" Lorelai said sympathetically. "Well, hang in there. At least he's pretty to look at."

"Yeah, there is that," Rory said, fiddling with the hem of her sweater. She glanced up at the television. "Oh, hey! _Now, Voyager_ is on!"

Lorelai immediately perked up. "Ooh! There's nothing more romantic than a woman who falls in love with a married man on a cruise ship."

"It's hard to argue with Bette Davis and Paul Henreid."

"Well, they had the stars."

For the remainder of the movie, Lorelai and Rory remained engrossed in the film, alternating between chattering over it with their own commentary, and quoting the lines along with the characters.

When it was over, they both stretched, listening to their joints crack.

"Life is always better in black and white, isn't it?" Lorelai observed dreamily.

"I'm bushed," Rory yawned. "Thanksgiving with the Leighs is always a zoo."

Lorelai smiled. At least one of them enjoyed being with family. "You get yourself to bed, babe."

"Aye, aye, captain." Rory mock-saluted her, then headed off to the bathroom.

While Rory brushed her teeth, Lorelai went into her bedroom and changed into her pajamas. As she did, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

She looked the same. She didn't look like a woman who had just dumped five years of her life down the drain. Well, that was a little harsh. She had a lot of good memories with Luke. He was always there for her whenever she needed him, he listened to all of her office drama without complaint, and he'd even learned to differentiate between Manolos and Jimmy Choos, thanks to her excellent tutelage. He was good at fixing things, and when he visited, he always took care of all the chores she never wanted to deal with (which tended to be all of them). She would miss him, but the gaping hole in her heart that she expected was nowhere to be found. She just felt…nothing. It was strangely liberating and at the same time, a little disturbing. Was she made of ice?

Suddenly, the enormity of what she'd done hit her, and she began to cry. Her tears were not for Luke, though. For the first time in her adult life, she realized, she was alone. Luke had always been her safety net, her fallback option. In the years that they'd flirted over the counter at the diner, she'd always had the confidence that if her current relationship didn't work out (and there had been quite a few, ranging from flings to fairly serious), Luke would always be there to pick up the pieces. And then, when they were finally together, she had felt that her work was done; Luke was as stable and loyal as a German shepherd. No more need for backups, no more searching for security.

And now all of that was gone.

Eventually, her tears dried up, and she wiped her bleary eyes. She opened her door and peeked into the hallway. Rory's door was closed, and Lorelai could hear a steady sawing noise coming from behind it. If only Rory could hear herself now; she'd _have_ to stop bragging that she never snored. Lorelai knew a snore when she heard one, and that was most definitely a snore.

She tiptoed into the bathroom and pulled out her toothpaste, a bright blue gel that tasted like bubblegum. Luke had hated it and never used it, even though Lorelai had insisted that a mouth that tasted like Hubba Bubba was infinitely more appealing to kiss than a mouth that tasted like mints. When she reached for her toothbrush, she saw Luke's Oral-B in the slot next to hers.

With determination in her face, she picked up the Oral-B and tossed it into the trash can.


	2. Don't Shoot the Messengers

**CHAPTER 2 - DON'T SHOOT THE MESSENGERS**

******SIX MONTHS LATER**

At eight o'clock at night, Lorelai sat at her desk, staring at copy that some of her team had submitted. There was copy for a watch company that was supposed to make prospective buyers think the company's watch would make them sexier. There was copy for a soft drink that was supposed to make prospective buyers think drinking the soda would make them sexier. There was even copy for a floor sweeper that was supposed to make housecleaning (and those who did the cleaning) sexier. Sex, sex, sex, and more sex. Every page, sex.

She was sensing a theme.

"Ugh," Lorelai growled in frustration, partly from the mediocrity of the copy, and partly from other reasons. One particular other reason, to be precise.

The six months that had passed since she broke up with Luke had sped by, faster than Lorelai had ever thought they would. It had been difficult at first, of course, not to have Luke to depend on; not to have someone around who could always fix any household appliance, or unclog drains, or be dragged on shopping expeditions so he could carry all the bags. She missed the breakfasts he made for her and snuggling against him on the couch while watching _Pee-Wee's Big Adventure_ (a classic for which Lorelai and Rory had recently had a hundredth viewing party; for a week afterward, Lorelai couldn't stop saying "I know you are, but what am I?" to people). But aside from a stress-induced freakout in February, Lorelai still felt the same peace about ending the relationship. Luke never called, either, which helped tremendously, and it didn't take too long for Lorelai to stop expecting his calls. In the meantime, she'd gotten to know the building's actual handyman, she'd discovered a cute little diner a few blocks away, and she'd found a pillow that was now her companion at movie time.

Rory had not been impressed with the pillow.

"That pillow is so sorry," Rory had said when Lorelai brought it home one day. "It looks like a sack of potatoes that's ashamed of itself."

"Hey!" Lorelai had shot back. "Don't hurt Sacky's feelings like that. He's very sensitive." She'd hugged the pillow closer to her chest. "Don't listen to Rory, Sacky. She doesn't understand our love."

Eventually, Rory claimed to accept Sacky, although Lorelai thought it was extremely curious that Sacky often took "vacations" in the linen closet.

Still, there was one other thing that Luke had been able to do for Lorelai that she had not been able to replace, and it wasn't carrying around shopping bags (Lorelai herself had begrudgingly taken over that responsibility; where were cute, teenage boys with crushes when she needed them?). Unfortunately, this last problem didn't appear to be one that was going to go away any time soon, especially not when Lorelai had suddenly become quite picky.

Lorelai had always had an easy time attracting men. With her dark, wavy hair, sparkling blue eyes, and mile-long legs, the male species had flocked to her from an early age, and it hadn't let up since. As a teenager, it had been common for her to have three or four boys vying for her attention at the same time (much to Emily's displeasure), and she would gleefully indulge them all with enough flirtation to keep them on the hook, but not enough to commit to one as a boyfriend (even more to Emily's displeasure). Boys, to Lorelai's teenage mind, had been playmates and comrades, nothing more.

In her 20s, sex had entered the equation, and she'd had a series of boyfriends, none lasting over a year, plus a few flings in between. Most of the time, the relationships had ended because Lorelai had gotten bored, or because the boy wanted to marry Lorelai and she didn't want to marry him. To date, she had turned down one marriage proposal and two requests to live together. A few times she'd even dismissed suitors because they had terrible hairstyles she could no longer tolerate, and it was just easier to dump them than to try to get them into a salon (not something she was proud of, but she didn't exactly feel remorse over it, either).

And then came Luke, the only man she'd been with in her 30s and the first man she had truly cared for. They'd talked a few times about marrying -- but in the future, when they were ready to want the same things. Now they knew that day would never come.

When Lorelai returned to singledom, she'd expected that she would resume her previous dating habits. To her surprise, she'd discovered that she had somehow lost interest in casual dating. Since her breakup with Luke, she'd had several dates with perfectly nice, if somewhat bland men, and all had ended with kisses on the cheek or lips and nothing more. Maybe it was maturity; maybe it was the result of being with a good, stable person for five years and having that become the new standard; but whatever it was, Lorelai had not closed the deal with anyone for six months because no one had made her want to.

And now it was starting to get to her. Really get to her. She was only human, after all.

Lorelai laid her forehead on her desk and squeezed her eyes shut. In a city crawling with single men, couldn't there just be one she liked?

A knock at the door caused her to whip her head up, and Mitchum Huntzberger strode into her office. Physically, he wasn't the biggest man, but he had the presence of ten.

"Gilmore, you're still here?" he boomed, which was his default vocal setting.

"Hmm, let me check." Lorelai felt her face, arms, body. "Yep, still here."

"Good," Mitchum said, completely missing her sarcasm. "I like to see people working. Logan could learn a thing or two from you. He was looking at something called 'blogs' on the internet when I stopped by his office this afternoon. When I asked him what a 'blog' was, he told me I wouldn't understand. Afterward, I had my secretary look it up, and believe you me, I am more than capable of understanding these 'blogs.'"

"Yeah, uh, that's great," Lorelai said, nodding. When Mitchum got on his rants like this, it was best to let him ride it out.

"He thinks I'm old and out of touch," Mitchum stormed, pacing back and forth. Ever since Mitchum had decided that H&S should trend younger, he'd been obsessed with keeping up to date with "hip, young people" things. "Well, we'll see who's in touch and who's out of touch at our quarterly meeting this fall." He turned on his heel and suddenly seemed to remember that he had, in fact, come to talk to Lorelai. "How are those two stooges Colin and Finn working out for you?"

Colin and Finn were Logan's buddies from Yale. Each had about the same level of ambition as Logan but were ten times less charming about it. Earlier in the day, Lorelai had chewed out both of them for turning in their copy late, and she had heard Colin mutter "_Somebody_ needs to get laid" on his way out of her office. He had nearly received the spiked heel of Lorelai's Louboutin in his cranium for it.

"I think we're making progress," Lorelai told Mitchum diplomatically.

Mitchum shrugged. "Well, if you want to fire them, just make sure you do it at the end of the pay period so we don't have to prorate. Accounting's short a member because one of them just had a baby."

Concluding that his work there was done, he turned and marched for the door. "Oh, and by the way," he added, "we got the Benton account. Her lawyer just called me an hour ago, so make sure those clowns are ready to work."

With that, he was gone, and Lorelai slid back down in her chair. She would love to fire Colin and Finn, but she was concerned that doing so might have a negative effect on Rory, who was still on Logan's team. Logan knew they were roommates, and Lorelai didn't know him well enough to be sure he wouldn't take it out on Rory.

But the Benton account! Mitchum, with Lorelai's help, had been heavily courting Ashley Benton, the latest celebutante reality star to become a tabloid sensation. Despite having no demonstrable talent for anything meaningful, Ashley had somehow made it onto Barbara Walters' _Most Intriguing People_ special and had parlayed that into a mini-empire of a tacky fashion line, a "singing" career, a Barbie doll that made responsible mothers weep, and now a fragrance, which was what Mitchum was interested in marketing.

Lorelai's cell phone started playing "Tequila" (another remnant from the Pee-Wee party), and Lorelai looked at the caller ID. It was Rory.

"Hey, Kid," Lorelai said into the phone.

"Hey, Gilmore," Rory's voice replied. "I take it I should leave some pizza out for you?"

"Yeah, I'm still stuck here. Hey, guess what? Mitchum just told me I could fire Colin and Finn."

"Ooh, I dare you."

"Do you think Logan would cry?"

"Well, he might write a blog about it."

"Damn. Word travels fast around here."

"It's the curse of text messaging."

"I've got to get on that trend. Even Mitchum knows how to do it."

"I bet you still use a butter churn, too."

"Hey, have you _seen_ my triceps? Guess what else?"

"Hmm, what else?"

"Mitchum also told me we got the Benton account."

"The Benton account? Congratulations! Now you'll have an opportunity to ask Ashley Benton why she thinks underwear is an optional garment."

"When I ask her, I will be sure to text you the answer."

Lorelai heard Rory giggle. "Well, before we get too sidetracked," Rory continued, "I just wanted to let you know that Paris has arrived and is once again on a break from Doyle, so we might have to hit up the clubs. Apparently, she's taken to scorching the dance floor as a means of repairing her wounded ego. I think it's because she likes to know that not only is she ten times smarter than every other girl there, she also has superior coordination. She's developed a Renaissance woman complex."

Paris Gellar, Rory's tiny, blonde, overachieving college roommate, was known for three things: her unparalleled bluntness, her dictatorial ways, and her tempestuous relationship with Doyle, a fact checker at the _Boston Herald_. When the relationship became long distance after graduation -- Doyle in Boston, Paris in Chicago for med school -- the drama between the two quadrupled. As a result, Lorelai had started referring to them as Pam and Tommy. Still, Paris was extremely loyal to Rory, and because of that, Lorelai rarely complained when Paris visited.

"Well, Kid, you know if I'm there, she might have some competition."

"Bring it on, Gilmore."

"Oh, it will be _broughten_, babe." Lorelai couldn't suppress a grin. "Hey, listen, I'll be home in an hour, and I will make sure my sequined tube top is glittering appropriately."

"Great, that one's always a winner. I'll keep the pizza warm for you."

* * *

An hour and a half later, Rory was just putting leftover slices of pizza back into the oven when Lorelai finally staggered through the door.

"Hey," Rory said, a little concerned, "what took you so long?"

Lorelai groaned. "Taylor caught me in the hall."

"_Oh_," Rory said knowingly.

Everyone in the entire apartment building, plus many people on the block, knew the name of Taylor Doose. A retired old bachelor, he spent the bulk of his time keeping tabs on everyone else and logging complaints about his neighbors. (One day it was music being played too loudly; the next, it was the aroma of spicy food from downstairs causing him headaches; after that, it was someone's breach of elevator etiquette.) Most of the residents had tuned him out long ago, but it was a luxury Lorelai and Rory had never experienced because he lived two doors down from them.

Lorelai set her bag down on the kitchen table that was never used for eating. "And it gets better. I now have a date for next Saturday's company picnic."

"Let me guess: Taylor set you up?"

"Taylor set me up."

"Wow. Taylor set you up."

"I know. I tried to use evasive maneuvers, but he was on a mission to seek and destroy."

"Do you have an escape route planned?"

"I'm counting on Snake Plissken to rescue me, but I'm not opposed to faking an injury, either. What do you think, broken toe or hamstring pull?"

Rory brought the pizza back out, and Lorelai dug in eagerly. At that moment, Paris marched out of Rory's bedroom dressed in pajamas, shaking her cell phone in her hand.

"Rory, you will not believe what he just texted me," she fumed, clearly in the middle of another volley of insults with Doyle. "Oh, hi, Lorelai," she added cheerfully.

"Hello, Paris. You seem well."

Paris resumed her offended expression and continued, "He says it's more important for people to know how to use language effectively than it is to know what the medulla oblongata is. I texted him back that if he didn't have a medulla oblongata, he wouldn't even be able to say that, because his heart would stop beating, and even if it didn't, he would probably forget to breathe and then die. I'm waiting for him to reply now. I can't wait to see what that little chicken liver has to say about that. I'm timing him, too. So far it's been two minutes and 36 seconds. Clearly he refuses to admit defeat in the face of insurmountable odds. He's a regular Hillary Clinton."

"It's his last stand," Rory offered. "You're his Sitting Bull."

"Well, he's about to lose, so I hope he can at least be gracious about it this time." Paris glanced at her watch. "A-ha! Three minutes. His time is up, I am the de facto winner."

She grinned smugly and set her phone aside. "Even if he texts back, his answer is worthless. That's the rule we set. It keeps us civil," she explained. She then turned to Lorelai. "So, Lorelai, I hear that you've been leading the celibate life for six months. How's that treating you? Climbing the walls yet?"

Lorelai's mouth dropped open, and she shot Rory a look. Rory shrugged helplessly, as if to say, "It's Paris! How am I supposed to know how she knows these things?"

"Uh, I've been on dates since Luke and I broke up," Lorelai informed her.

"But you haven't knocked the boots," Paris clarified. "No windin' and grindin'. No riding down the freeway of love."

Few people ever made Lorelai stammer. Paris Gellar was one of them. "Uh, well, uh…I plead the Fifth," Lorelai said, grasping at the first excuse she could think of.

"So you haven't," Paris concluded authoritatively. "Congratulations, admission is the first step toward healing. We all have needs, Lorelai. There's no need to be ashamed."

Lorelai gave her a look. "May I ask just how you came to this conclusion about my love life?"

"Oh, it's very simple. Rory mentioned that you and Luke broke up. Rory has not mentioned any new boyfriends. She has also mentioned that you've been getting a reputation at work for being extremely cranky. When I put two and two together, I got four."

Lorelai immediately turned on Rory. "I have a reputation for being cranky?"

Rory put her hands up. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger."

Paris leaned forward and patted Lorelai's hand. "Don't worry, Lorelai. I am here to help you. I know full well how frustrating these times can be."

Lorelai's face fell. "I can't un-know that, can I."

Paris struck a thinker's pose, balancing her chin on her knuckles. "Lorelai, do you have any current prospects?"

"She has a date for next Saturday's Memorial Day picnic," Rory offered.

"Rory!"

"Hmm, that's good," Paris said, nodding approvingly. "Putting yourself out there is definitely a direction you want to be going in."

"Well, let's not get ahead of ourselves," Lorelai said. "It's a set-up, and I'm pretty sure Miss Cleo has more insight into my tastes."

Paris gave her a stern look. "Lorelai, you'll have to curb that judgmental spirit if you want to make any progress. An open mind is of the essence."

"Uh, what if mine's in a lock box?"

Paris ignored Lorelai's comment. "So, you believe this date is not potential boyfriend or husband material."

"I think I'd have a better chance with 98 percent of the male contestants on _Project Runway_."

"Have you tried internet dating?"

"I can barely check my email."

"Have you seen a matchmaker?"

"I'd rather save up for a fur coat."

"Craigslist?"

"God, no."

"You're not making this easy," Paris said accusingly.

"I've always been difficult. It's hereditary."

"Hmmph." Paris scowled at Lorelai for a long moment as she assessed the latter's predicament in her head. "It appears there's only one solution to your problem, then," she finally pronounced.

"And what would that be?"

"Well, since you are so obstinate as to refuse help from other relationship resources, I suggest your best bet for male companionship is to enlist a friend with benefits."

"A friend with benefits."

"A friend with benefits is a friend or acquaintance with whom you have an agreement to have sex, but there are no relationship expectations."

"That sounds an awful lot like hooking up. I got over that in my 20s."

"It's hooking up with purpose. This way, you know what you're getting and where you're getting it from. Plus, you get to sidestep all the complications from both relationships and one night stands. It's the best of both worlds."

"So you're saying it's both Hannah and Montana." Lorelai remained skeptical. It sounded too good to be true. She was also pretty sure the term had been used in an Alanis Morissette song from Alanis's angry young woman days. Following this advice could only lead to bad things, like Dave Coulier.

"Precisely. Of course, you have to remember to take precautions," Paris continued. "One of the most common side effects from a friends with benefits arrangement is that one person develops feelings and wants an actual relationship, while the other person just wants the sex. This is usually fatal to the arrangement. That's why it's important to set some ground rules."

"Ground rules?"

"Like whether you're allowed to date other people, that sort of thing. Ground rules ideally preserve the non-committal nature of the arrangement. Remember, feelings are lethal, so you want to minimize the chance that they arise on either side. I recommend finding someone who's attractive, but not too attractive. That way you won't develop any idealistic romantic notions that this other person is actually your Prince Charming. Their flaws will always be evident to you, but you won't be repulsed, either."

"Good to know," Lorelai said.

"So what do you think?"

"Well, Paris, thank you for that educational walkthrough, but I think I prefer relationships where the other person actually cares about me."

"Fine, suit yourself," Paris said, looking annoyed that Lorelai was dismissing her sage advice. "But don't come crying to me when you've got an itch you can't scratch. The doctor will not be in."

Before Lorelai could reply, Paris's cell phone began to buzz and blink.

Paris immediately snatched it up and looked to see who sent it. "A-ha! Doyle must have finally accepted the reality of reality. I hope he's somewhere cold and miserable right now, preferably that roach-infested shoebox he calls an apartment."

She pressed a few buttons and began reading Doyle's text, but instead becoming happier, Paris's expression just turned angry. "Damn that pocket-sized mastermind!"

"What's wrong?" Rory asked.

"This," Paris said, holding out her cell phone.

Rory took it and read the message. "Oh, Paris, this is romantic. He says your medulla oblongata is the sexiest thing about you and that his occipital lobe is sure of it."

"Exactly," Paris huffed. "He thinks I'm cheap. He thinks that he can just say some flattering things about my nervous system and I'll come running right back to him. Well, I'm not as easy as I used to be. Take my phone away from me, Rory. Even I am not immune to temptation."

Exchanging an amused glance with Lorelai, Rory obediently took the phone away from Paris.

"So," Paris said after Rory had hidden it in a secret location, "who's up for clubbing?"

Rory just shook her head as Lorelai piped up, "Ooh, my sequined tube top is!"

* * *

Three hours later, Lorelai crawled into bed, feeling the kind of exhaustion that she only got from dancing. They hadn't stayed too long -- Paris's ego tended to rebound quickly -- but Lorelai had still been asked for her number twice. Unfortunately, the people doing the asking were 20-year-old college boys with fake IDs, which would have been flattering had the boys not compared her to Demi Moore and themselves to Ashton Kutcher. For starters, she was not nearly as old as Demi, and second, they were far more obnoxious, and not nearly as good-looking as Ashton.

As she burrowed under the covers in the darkness, she found the old, familiar hunger start to gnaw, and somehow, Paris's advice didn't seem quite as extreme as it had earlier. Not that Lorelai would ever do that, of course. She'd had a real relationship with Luke. She'd seen how good a relationship could be. Settling for less just wasn't an option anymore. Her recent dates had proved that.

Her thoughts turned to the H&S picnic and her upcoming mystery date. More than likely, she was going to regret saying yes to meeting him. It was more likely that she would meet and marry Bono (who already had a wife) than hit it off with this guy. Still, a weird butterfly of hope fluttered in her stomach, and Paris's words came back to her: getting out there was necessary.

She mentally sifted through her wardrobe, mixing and matching outfits for the picnic, until she finally drifted off to sleep.


	3. Click, Click, Click

**CHAPTER 3 - CLICK, CLICK, CLICK**

"Show me what you're wearing!" Lorelai called to Rory from the bathroom. Lorelai scrutinized herself in the mirror, applied another coat of mascara to both eyes, then blinked to assess her work. She looked soft and natural, which was what she had been aiming for. It was Saturday, and she and Rory were about to leave for the annual Huntzberger and Stiles Memorial Day weekend picnic in Central Park, which was where Lorelai was supposed to meet her blind date, courtesy of one Taylor Doose.

Rory bounded up to the bathroom door. She was wearing a pretty skirt and a blue top that showed off the color of her eyes.

"Wow," Lorelai said, "someone's dressed to impress."

"Dean and I haven't seen each other for three weeks," Rory reminded her. "I figured I'd put a little extra effort into it."

Rory and Dean Forester had been dating, off and on, for several months. As far as Lorelai knew, it wasn't very serious; Dean was a hockey player in the New Jersey Devils feeder system and was often gone for games, camps, and tournaments. Whenever Lorelai asked how things were going with him, Rory tended to be vague; it was the one area of their friendship where Rory was a little closed off. Lorelai supposed Rory was hesitant about the relationship because she'd had such a bad experience with Jess, her hometown boyfriend whom she'd dated through college. Lorelai didn't know much about that, either, but her understanding was that Jess had broken her heart.

"Oh, so you think you might finally let him get to first base, huh," Lorelai teased.

Rory gave Lorelai a look. "I'll have you know, first base is a very nice place to go with Dean."

"Eww, you've kissed?" Lorelai asked, imitating a junior high girl. "Did he slobber all over you?"

"Well, look at you," Rory said, turning the tables on Lorelai. "Those jeans are rather snug, and that's not exactly the most opaque white, deep V-neck T-shirt in your wardrobe. Not to mention the sexy, tousled hair. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were looking forward to this blind date."

"Hey, there is nothing wrong with putting your best foot forward."

"I'd believe you more if you hadn't spent the whole week complaining about having to meet this guy. And is that perfume I smell?"

Lorelai deadpanned. "I don't smell any perfume."

"That is most definitely perfume."

Lorelai sniffed the air. "No, I smell no perfume. You must be imagining it. Your olfactory bulb must be damaged. Your olfactory bulb controls smell. I learned that from Paris."

"Well, _you_ must have short-circuited _your_ olfactory bulb, then, because an alluring fragrance is wafting toward me as we speak." Rory raised an eyebrow and stared down Lorelai.

Lorelai stared back.

"Okay, fine, I did spritz some on," Lorelai confessed. "But I don't know, maybe Taylor hit his head on a big boulder and managed to know someone decent. I just want to be prepared."

Rory slung her purse over her shoulder. "Well, there's only one way to find out."

* * *

It was a picture-perfect afternoon in New York City when Lorelai and Rory got off the bus near Central Park. The sky was robin's egg blue, the clouds were white and fluffy, and the air was warm, without a trace of uncomfortable humidity.

Inside the park, families picnicked and played games on the lawn or visited in the shade of the trees. Couples strolled along the sidewalks. Occasionally a biker or skateboarder would zoom by. It reminded Lorelai of _Sunday Afternoon_ _on the Island of La Grande Jatte_, only modernized.

"So where are you supposed to meet this guy?" Rory asked as she and Lorelai made their way to the fenced off area where H&S had a tent, tables and chairs, and grills.

"By the tent, whatever that means," Lorelai replied. "Taylor didn't give me much to go on, other than the guy's tall with brown hair and blue eyes."

"Oh, well, that'll narrow it down."

"That's what I said."

"He didn't give you a name?"

"I think Taylor is expecting that the heavens will open, a dove will land on his shoulder, and the voice of Charlton Heston will announce his presence."

"Taylor does have a flair for the dramatic," Rory remarked.

They finally found the picnic area and got wristbands from the interns who were guarding the gates.

"These are very important," Lorelai said, pointing to her wristband. "They allow us to get endless amounts of food and, more importantly, beer."

"Gilmore, you're going to behave yourself this year, aren't you?" Rory asked, not entirely joking. "Because last year I practically had to carry you onto the bus, and, sister, you're not a feather."

"I was not that bad last year," Lorelai protested. "Yes, I may have overindulged a tad, but at least I wasn't passed out in a ditch like George from Accounting."

Rory just gave her a look.

"Okay, okay." Lorelai held up her hand, Boy Scout-style. "Yes, I will behave."

"Good," Rory said, "because I don't know if I'll be coming home the same time as you, and I'd hate for you to follow in the footsteps of George."

"_Really_," Lorelai said, suddenly very interested. "You're going to abandon me for the lusty, hockey-playing arms of Dean Forester?"

"I didn't say lusty or hockey-playing arms, madam," Rory said, blushing slightly. "We just might go somewhere else for a while. We might get ice cream or something."

"Ah, _ice cream_. So that's what the kids are calling it these days," Lorelai teased.

"Did someone say ice cream?" a male voice asked.

Lorelai turned around to see the tall, sinewy frame of Dean Forester standing behind her.

"Hello, Lorelai," Dean said politely, flashing a smile that showed off his dimples.

"Dean, hi!" Lorelai greeted him. "Still got all your teeth?"

"All twenty-eight accounted for," Dean replied. His gaze moved on to Rory and showed enthusiastic approval for her outfit. "Rory, you look lovely." He put his hand on her upper arm and gave her a quick kiss.

"Ooh, it's getting hot in here," Lorelai quipped.

"Okay, that'll be enough," Rory said, shooting daggers at Lorelai.

"Rory, are you hungry?" Dean asked.

"I could go for some kibbles 'n bits," Rory admitted. She turned to Lorelai. "Do you want me to stick around?" she asked, and Lorelai knew she meant "be protection in case this blind date guy turns out to be a nut."

"No, I think I'm good," Lorelai said, waving her on. "Go. Consume. Gluttonize."

Rory shot her a thankful smile and walked off hand-in-hand with Dean.

When they'd gone a few steps, Lorelai walked over to the nearest icy tub and pulled out a bottle of beer. Taking a sip, she surveyed the picnic-goers. She saw a few secretaries huddled together, exchanging gossip, while their husbands and boyfriends (some already red-faced) drank beer at tables under the tent. She saw a few members of accounting playing some sort of ring toss game in the grass. Dotted throughout the area were the various cliques of copywriters, account managers, and artists. She saw Colin and Finn chatting up some girls who were only attractive from the neck down. A few yards away from them, Logan, with a gorgeous blonde on his arm, gave a friendly, masculine back slap to a man Lorelai didn't recognize. To Lorelai's surprise, the man turned his head and caught her looking at him. He held her gaze for a few seconds, and then Lorelai looked away, slightly flustered. Something about the way he looked at her made her stomach flutter. She supposed it was because he was quite attractive, although physically, he was very different from Luke -- more streamlined than brawny. She also supposed, rather cynically, that despite his brown hair, there was no way he could be her blind date…but it didn't stop her from hoping.

Wanting to get a closer look, she started to move as nonchalantly as possible in the man's direction. When he started to look her way again, she quickly turned and began playing with a lock of hair that was resting on her shoulder. A few seconds later, she slowly began meandering nearer, spotting another icy tub that was only a few yards away from him. Setting her half-drunk bottle of beer on the nearest table, she began to stroll toward the tub…and the man got up with Logan and started walking away.

_Dammit!_ Lorelai marched up to the tub, snatched up another bottle, and twisted the cap off. Taking a ferocious swig, she scanned the crowd to see where the man had gone.

Craning her neck, she took a few steps to her left and promptly ran into a flat chest.

"Hello," said the chest.

Lorelai looked up to see a dough-colored male face looking back at her. "Oh, excuse me," she said. "I'm sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Believe me," said the owner of the face, "I don't mind."

Lorelai stepped back and got a better look at this stranger. He was tall and thin, narrow at the shoulders and not much wider at the hips. He wore a pair of corduroy pants and a pale blue, button-down short-sleeved shirt that was one size too big and looked like it was straight out of 1962. His eyes were bulbous and his eyebrows dark, and his chin seemed to recede into his face. Among the H&S crowd, he stuck out like a sore thumb.

"As a matter of fact," the stranger continued, "I believe this is a sign that the universe has conspired to bring us together."

"Oh…really?" Lorelai asked, feeling her spider sense start to tingle ominously. She noticed that in addition to his odd set of features, he had an unusual, monotone cadence to his speaking.

"I do, indeed," the stranger said, sounding as though he were preparing to deliver a practiced speech. "There are over eight million residents of New York City. There are one and a half million in Manhattan. There are only thousands in Central Park. Taking your most educated guess, what do you suppose the chances are that two of them, strangers to each other, would be acquaintances of the same person?"

Lorelai felt her stomach drop out as she realized that the man in front of her had not only brown hair, but blue eyes as well. Her knees suddenly felt shaky, and not in a good way.

"And beyond that, what would you say are the chances that one of them would bump into the other just as the other was arriving?"

"I have no idea," she said weakly. Half of her mind had gone completely blank. The other half was beating Taylor to a bloody pulp.

"My, my, my, you are a pretty picture," the stranger commented. "I must say, you are much more attractive than your photo. You know the camera adds ten pounds, so I wasn't sure if it was an accurate representation. Not that I'm opposed to dating more Rubenesque females, mind you, but I do have a weakness for the svelte ones."

"I'm sorry," Lorelai said in a small voice, trying to recover, "what did you say your name was?"

The stranger smiled one of those no-teeth-showing smiles. "Kirk Gleason, friend to man and lover to ladies," he said, sticking out his hand. Lorelai shook it limply.

Kirk glanced over at the buffet line. "Do you mind if we go through the line? They wouldn't give me a bracelet, even though I said I was with you, and I'm so starved I could skin a grizzly right now."

Lorelai, still in shock, just nodded numbly.

"Hmm, the line looks long," Kirk observed. "Oh, well, I'm sure there's something you can tell me about yourself that I don't already know while we wait. By the way, you smell heavenly. I hope that I'll be smelling the same by the time the night is over, if you catch my drift." He waggled his eyebrows knowingly.

Kirk had to take Lorelai by the hand to lead her over to the buffet line. For some reason unknown to him, she suddenly seemed unable to move.

* * *

"You're not having any corn on the cob?" Dean asked as he and Rory went down the buffet line.

"Corn gets stuck in my teeth," Rory said as she scooped some chips onto her plate. She smiled when she saw Dean carrying two full plates of food for himself to their table.

They sat down and ate, and Rory realized she was hungrier than she thought. She cleaned her plate in record time, while Dean alternated between talking and eating.

"So I checked the guy, and he came after me -- really threw himself at me -- and the next thing I knew, I was at the bottom of a pile. The team doctor said I was lucky I didn't break anything." Dean paused to shovel down some cole slaw.

"Definitely," Rory said. Dean was something like a hockey-playing Houdini; he'd had more narrow escapes from injury than she could count.

"Well, it's part of the game," Dean said. He reached out and covered Rory's small hand with his large one. "I'm just glad I'm in one piece when I come home to see you."

Rory nodded. "I agree," she said, but his words didn't make her heart race. She liked Dean, she really did, but it was more of a mellow pleasance that she felt around him, rather than an eager pit in her stomach. But after Jess, she was fine with not riding the emotional roller coaster. Dean was nice and safe, and right now, that was what she wanted.

"Well, well, well. Rory Leigh, you didn't tell me you were bringing a date!" a very familiar voice said loudly.

Rory looked up to see Logan Huntzberger hovering over her. A gorgeous blonde girl dressed in designer clothes clung to one of his arms. Logan himself was dressed impeccably in an expensive-looking knit polo shirt and khaki pants. It was the first time Rory had seen him out of a suit. He looked nice. She felt a strange flip in her stomach. She hadn't been sure that Logan even knew her name; at work he always seemed distracted. And why would he have thought she was bringing a date? She hadn't even told him she was coming to the picnic.

"Hello, Logan," she said, remembering her manners. "Uh, this is my friend, Dean. Dean, this is Logan, my boss."

"Oh, so just a friend?" Logan asked, pointing his finger back and forth between Rory and Dean.

"No, we're dating," Dean said quickly. "Dean Forester," he said to Logan, shaking his hand.

"Logan Huntzberger." Logan put his hand at the back of the blonde. "And this is Lisa."

"Your date?" Rory asked.

Logan grabbed Lisa's hand, swinging it a few times, and grinned. "I don't know," he said to Lisa, "are we dating?"

"If you want to call it that," Lisa said with a smirk, and Rory noticed she had a slight foreign accent.

"I guess we are, then," Logan announced with a jovial shrug.

Rory laughed nervously. Dean didn't laugh at all.

"Your girl here's very talented," Logan said to Dean. "Good writer. She helps save my ass every day."

"Yeah, Rory's pretty amazing," Dean said, not taking his eyes off Logan.

"Well, we need to keep making the rounds," Logan said, not seeming to notice the tension. "Keep up the good work, Rory. You're a lucky guy, Dean." He slung his arm around Lisa, and they walked off to the next table.

Dean turned to Rory. "What the hell was that?"

Rory shook her head. "I…I really don't know," she said honestly.

* * *

"Oh, yes, I'm finding that the educational CD-ROM business is extremely lucrative. Our latest offering is a CD-ROM on how to use CD-ROMs," Kirk said as he polished off a fried chicken thigh. "At the rate I'm going, I'll finally be able to move out of my mom's place. She won't let me lock my bedroom door. It puts a real damper on my love life."

Lorelai cringed. She pushed around a chunk of potato from her potato salad on her plate. She had spotted Rory, but Rory was on the complete opposite side of the tent, engaged in what looked like an intense conversation with Dean. For the past ten minutes, Kirk had been droning on and on about his various business ventures, which included dressing up like Superman for kids' birthday parties and being a personal shopper for non-English speakers, despite his inability to speak any other language. "I am an expert in the language of gesturing," he'd explained when she'd asked how that worked, exactly.

"You don't seem very hungry," Kirk said, noticing Lorelai's plate. "Taylor said you eat like a horse. 'A thoroughbred mare' were his exact words."

Lorelai frowned, but before she could reply, a loud whoop ripped through the tent, and people started parting to make a pathway. Down the impromptu path came Logan, decked out in some sort of plastic chestplate, brandishing an enormous water gun. Right behind him were Colin and Finn, outfitted similarly, along with a few others. They passed by Lorelai's table, and to Lorelai's surprise, one of the group was the very attractive man she'd noticed earlier. At the sight of him, her stomach gave another little flip, then a very big one when he looked straight at her, gave her the once-over, and grinned as he passed by.

Once outside of the tent, Logan halted and gathered the troops. "Okay, boys, I think we know the rules: basically there aren't any rules. Just don't get hurt, and don't get caught by the cops." There was a swell of masculine laughter, and Lorelai heard Colin's voice yell, "Yeah, Finn, I'm not paying your bail anymore, you dirty Australian!"

"All right," Logan said, holding out his arms to calm things down. "Players, take your marks…get set…GO!"

Instantly, streams of water started flying everywhere as players scrambled all over the lawn, ducking behind trees and taking shots, then darting through the spooked picnic-goers who were still unaware of what had started.

Lorelai watched Logan take a shot at Finn, miss, roll a somersault, then take another shot, this time nailing him right in the face. Finn threw his arms in the air, trying to block Logan, and then, unable to escape, sulkily called truce. Lorelai couldn't help but silently egg Logan on for her own sake.

"It's too bad no one asked me to participate," Kirk said as they watched. "Of course, with my vast knowledge of martial strategy, dating from the Byzantine Empire through the Alamo, I would have flattened them all in no time."

"Uh-huh," Lorelai said, not really paying attention. Now Logan was going after Colin.

Suddenly, she noticed something moving out of the corner of her eye and turned to look. The next events seemed to happen in slow motion.

The very attractive man stood in front of her. She started to open her mouth. He raised his water gun, pulled the trigger, and a blast of cold water hit Lorelai smack in the face. On her hair. On her chest. Her arms. Everywhere.

With a yelp, Lorelai leaped to her feet. She was dripping, sopping wet. Open-mouthed, she glanced up at the man, who was grinning at her. "I…you…" Her vocabulary failed her.

Kirk had leapt to his feet, too. "I think I need to ask you to step outside, sir," he said to the man, clearly gearing up for a fistfight.

The man gave Kirk a funny look. "Um, we _are_ outside," the man stated.

"Oh. Right." Kirk tried again. "Well, then I'm going to have to ask you to apologize to the lady, or I am going to have to force-feed you a knuckle sandwich."

Lorelai finished wiping the drips out of her face, then began wringing out her shirt.

"Don't you think you ought to get her some paper towels to dry off with first?" the man pointed out.

Kirk's gaze darted between Lorelai and the churl standing before him, his inner conflict about which problem to address first written clearly on his face. He pointed at the man. "You stay right there. I'm not done with you," he said, then zoomed off for the paper towels.

Lorelai and the man watched him go, and then the man approached Lorelai. "Hey, are you all right?" he asked, and Lorelai was surprised to hear the gentleness in his voice. Coming up alongside her, he put his hand on her shoulder, which sent an unexpected little current through her.

Lorelai looked at his hand, then up at his face. "Yeah, I guess. You kind of took me by surprise there, buddy," she replied, keeping her tone light, but his nearness was making it a little hard to think of anything else.

The man smiled. "Okay, good. I mean, good that you're all right." He leaned in, and Lorelai's heart began to beat faster. It was like his entire body was sending out electric shocks to her, just by sharing the same air.

He lowered his mouth to her ear and murmured, "The thing is, I wanted to meet you, but I had to get rid of that other guy first. So I hope you'll forgive me."

Lorelai exhaled a shaky breath, and her whole body backed her up when she nodded and managed to say, "Yeah, okay, forgiven." As she did, she couldn't help but let her gaze linger for a brief moment on his lips. Then she realized what she was doing, and felt her cheeks warm. Hadn't she just declared to Rory a few days ago that she had turned a corner, turned over a new leaf, gotten maturity when it came to men? That when it came to relationships, she was new and improved? Yet here she was, letting her mind skip ahead to things that the new and improved Lorelai would demand she wait for.

"I'm Lorelai Gilmore," she said, holding out her hand for him to shake.

"Christopher Haden," he said, engulfing her hand in his, and a new current of electricity rippled up her arm. "So, Lorelai, what do you say we get you out of those wet clothes?"

Her eyebrows shot up to her forehead. "Excuse me?"

He just grinned. "You'll see."

* * *

"I just can't believe you work for that guy," Dean said, shaking his head, as Logan and his friends staggered into the tent, wet and muddy, but exhilarated after a very rambunctious water fight. "Does he even do any work?"

"He works," Rory said, feeling annoyed at Dean. Logan was far from a perfect, or even good boss most of the time, but having an outsider to the agency criticize him -- even if it was Dean -- just felt wrong to her. It was like someone criticizing a relative; _you_ could do it, but someone else couldn't. She covered her arms and shivered slightly. The picnic was starting to wind down, and the first hints of dusk had begun to creep into the sky. "Can we just drop the topic of Logan, please?"

"Of course," Dean said. "I didn't want to talk about him, anyway."

Rory pressed her lips together. Dean was the one who hadn't been able to let the topic of Logan go ever since Logan had swung by their table much earlier. They would start talking about something else, and then somehow Dean would bring it back to Logan.

With a sigh, Rory reached out and squeezed Dean's hand. "Look, I'm really glad you're back in town. I missed you while you were gone."

Dean's face brightened. "You missed me?"

"I missed you."

"I missed you, too, Rory. I always miss you when I'm on the road."

"I just want this to be a nice time for us, and I'd rather leave work at work, and that includes Logan, okay?" She looked at him, hoping he would get it.

"Of course," Dean quickly agreed. "Let's talk about anything but work. What do you want to talk about?"

Rory ran her thumb over Dean's knuckles as she looked into his eyes. "Well, I do believe we discussed going for ice cream. That would definitely go a long way in making this a nice time."

"I think I can manage that," Dean said, smiling.

"Good."

They stood, and Dean took Rory's hand. As they left, they passed Logan and his friends breaking open beers and talking loudly around a table, but Rory made sure to keep looking straight ahead.

* * *

"Oh, well, you _have_ to go to the Statue of Liberty," Lorelai said to Christopher after she found out he'd never been there.

They were walking along the sidewalk, peering into the shops as the last of the day's light finally disappeared. Every so often their shoulders would brush, and Lorelai would just _notice_ it. Her body and mind seemed to be in a state of heightened awareness, attuned solely to Christopher's nearness. She was already well aware that they were walking much more closely together than they would have with any other newly made acquaintance, but she couldn't remember if she'd ever felt this kind of chemistry before, this magnetic pull she couldn't escape. Ever since they'd left the picnic, they'd constantly been brushing up against each other and finding other ways to touch, whether it was his hand briefly resting against the small of her back as he let her enter a store first, or her pressing into his side to make room for others on the sidewalk, or his fingers lightly rubbing the back of her arm as they waited for the light to change color. The continuous stream of little touches was driving her mad, yet all she wanted was more.

"I mean, it's on the shirt you bought me," she continued, referring to the cheesy tourist-trap tee which she'd changed into at a souvenir shop after they left the picnic. "Plus, who doesn't want to recall the days when the French did something nice for America."

"Other countries celebrating the United States? Imagine that."

"I know, but that is one big hunk of metallic proof right there, my friend."

Their shoulders brushed again, and for a few moments they walked in silence. Lorelai could feel the tension descend on them like a blanket, wrapping thickly around them, and as she sneaked sideways glances at Christopher, she was sure he had to be feeling it, too.

They passed a mini-mart, and suddenly Lorelai grabbed Christopher's arm. "Wait. I need something from here," she told him.

Christopher raised his eyebrows at the run-down exterior but let Lorelai pull him inside by the hand.

Lorelai marched down the aisle, scanning the items, until she found what she was looking for. She picked up a package and held it up to Christopher.

Christopher read the label. "Corn nuts. You wanted to stop for corn nuts."

"It's the beer from this afternoon. I need something salty."

Lorelai went to the counter to pay, but Christopher plunked down a few dollar bills before she could pull out her wallet.

"Why did you have to pay?" she asked him once they were back outside. She gave him a little shove. "Now I feel obligated to share with you."

Christopher held out his hand. "I know."

They munched on the corn nuts, once again in silence, until Lorelai felt something small hit her on the head.

She ignored it, but a couple seconds later, she felt another tap, then another. They were getting close to her apartment building now, and there were a few people ahead of them on the sidewalk, but other than that, she had no idea where the tiny missiles were coming from. Then she glanced at Christopher.

Shaking a corn nut from the bag, she tossed it at the side of his head.

"Hey!" he exclaimed. "What was that for?"

"Don't play innocent with me," she said, accusing him playfully. "I know exactly what you're doing."

"What am I doing?"

She pelted him with another corn nut. "You're throwing corn nuts at me."

"Am I?" Christopher asked innocently -- and then he started flinging corn nut after corn nut at her. They lodged in her hair, hit her on the forehead, and Lorelai tried to pelt him back, until she ran out of ammunition. She threw herself at him, but he caught her by the wrists, and they struggled, laughing, leaning and staggering on the sidewalk, until Lorelai's hands were pinned behind her, and she found her face just a breath away from Christopher's.

They stared into each other's eyes as they caught their breath, and Lorelai knew for certain that he wanted everything as much as she did. What they were doing now was just the prelude.

"You know, we're only a couple blocks away from my place," she said in voice barely above a whisper. "You could come up…we could have coffee…"

"Yeah, coffee sounds great," he said, sounding like he was talking about anything but coffee.

He loosened his grip on her, and they walked briskly in silence toward her building. They avoided brushing shoulders and any other physical contact, as though they would receive a fatal electric shock if they touched. The tension between them had swelled to the bursting point; one more push, and the seams that held them back would explode.

In the elevator, they almost lost control, until the doors opened on the second floor, and an elderly couple got on. Lorelai determinedly trained her focus on the lighted floor numbers above the door, trying desperately not to be aware of Christopher's hand resting next to hers just fractions of an inch away on the rail.

Finally, the number 7 lit up. When the elevator door opened, they practically sprinted down the hall to apartment 707. As Lorelai dug into her purse to find her keys, Christopher pressed his body against her back, wrapping his arms around her waist as a little thrill went up her spine. She smiled, remembering when college boyfriends used to do the same thing, and continued searching for her keys; but when he dipped his head and began to kiss her neck lightly, she had to stop and close her eyes, exhaling a small sigh. Oh, yes…they should have started with this much earlier in the evening. The touch of his lips was like a series of small electric shocks on her skin, sending her pulse racing. When his tongue pressed against the sweet spot on her neck, she abandoned her keys altogether and turned around in his arms.

Immediately Christopher captured her mouth with a long, searing kiss that Lorelai felt all the way down to her toes, a kiss that unleashed everything that had been building between them all afternoon and evening. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, making a small sound when she felt his erection press into her hip. It gave her a rush, the proof that she was already affecting him so viscerally. She opened her mouth wide and sank into his kiss as his tongue slid inside and did wonderful, wet, insistent things to hers. He tasted like beer and salt and man, and all she wanted to do was keep devouring him. Raw need coursed through her veins like a roaring river, drowning out all other thoughts; it had been so long since she'd had this, far too long. How she'd made it this long at all was suddenly a mystery to her.

Christopher's hands moved under her shirt, over her stomach and up her back, sending a thousand new jolts of electricity through Lorelai as she encouraged him with her body and the sounds in her throat, losing herself in the sensations he was creating. He moved his mouth to her neck, sucking sensually on the skin there, and closed his hand over her breast.

That was the wake-up call Lorelai needed to remember that they were still in the hallway, in plain view of anyone who might walk by, particularly busybodies like Taylor. She pushed Christopher back slightly and panted, "We need to get inside."

"Right," he agreed, nodding vigorously. He let her fish out her keys, running his hands up and down her sides, each second that ticked by seeming to last an agonizing eon. Finally she turned the key in the lock, and they hurried inside.

The second the door was closed and re-locked, Christopher's lips descended again on Lorelai's, crushing open mouth to open mouth as their hands slid frantically over as much warm skin as they could. Lorelai felt like her skin had become a raging fire, and she quickly stripped off her top so that Christopher could touch her more easily. Christopher soon pulled off his own shirt, and Lorelai began to guide him back toward her bedroom.

Once inside, she closed the door and unzipped her jeans. He helped peel them off her, then wrapped his hands around her bottom, squeezing and caressing endlessly, first over her underwear, then slipping beneath the waistband, as his mouth feasted on her neck.

Lorelai moaned breathlessly. The need he was arousing in her was almost too much to bear; it felt like a hot, heavy coil deep inside her wrapping tighter and tighter. Filled with near-desperation, she quickly felt around for the waistband of his jeans, tugged on the zipper roughly, and shoved his pants off his hips. She swallowed when she saw his snug boxer-briefs. They left little to the imagination about his form, and she pulled him over to the bed.

She threw back the covers and lay down, and he followed her. She felt the weight and heat of his body descend on hers, and she let out a hot breath as he began to kiss her everywhere, behind the ear, on her jawline, neck, ribcage, stomach. He kissed her breasts through her bra, and she suddenly felt that if she didn't take off that bra right then, she would die. She arched her back, then reached behind and unhooked it. She flung it into a corner and pulled his head to her bare nipples, gasping in delight as he took each one into his mouth. He dallied there for a while, working her into a froth, then began to retreat down the plane of her stomach. As he passed her navel, he hooked his fingers into each side of her panties and slid them off her hips, down her legs, then discarded them on the floor. He returned to her stomach and pressed new hot, wet kisses to her skin. She squirmed happily beneath him, burying her fingers in his hair.

Then he began to kiss lower, and lower still, and Lorelai realized with a wild start that he was pulling her hips to the edge of the bed. Her breathing quickened when he wrapped his hand around her ankle and placed her foot on his shoulder. Suddenly she let out a sharp cry as his lips and tongue began to do marvelous things to her, things that made her see hot, swirling colors that were like molten pools of energy, energy that would consume her, blind her, make her incinerate if she got too close. She clutched the sheets tightly in her fists, trying to maintain some semblance of control. Her vision went white as the tightly wound coil inside her began to twist, then tremble, then quake; a torrent of sound rushed through her throat into the air, and she abandoned herself to Christopher, letting him drag her down to the depths, plummeting into darkness.


	4. The Rules Girl

**CHAPTER 4 - THE RULES GIRL**

"Dean, you don't have to ride down with me," Rory said on Sunday morning as they got into the elevator at his apartment complex.

As she spoke, she smoothed her skirt and hair. That was one thing she greatly disliked about spontaneously spending the night: having to wear the same clothes the next morning. It rankled her OCD tendencies, not to mention it was a walking advertisement of what had happened -- except in this case, nothing had really happened. After going for ice cream with Dean, they'd decided to go back to his apartment for a while to watch a movie, and the next thing she knew, they'd fallen asleep on the couch. When she woke up, it was three in the morning, by which point it was pointless to leave. Instead, they'd just crawled into Dean's bed and gone back to sleep there.

"I know I don't have to," Dean told Rory, "but I want to." He reached out and squeezed her hand.

The elevator dinged when it reached the first floor, and Dean let Rory step out first. They walked through the lobby and out to the sidewalk, where Dean hailed a cab.

Rory gave him a hug. "Thank you for breakfast," she said, planting a kiss on his cheek. "You make a mean scrambled egg."

"Well, I come from a long line of expert scramblers," Dean said, smiling. "It's in the DNA."

He leaned down and pecked Rory on the lips, and she got into the cab. As the taxi pulled away, he stood on the sidewalk, watching until the yellow cab had disappeared from his sight.

* * *

Lorelai awoke to a beam of sunlight shining directly into her eyes. Two of the slats of her blinds had left a sliver of space between them at just the right angle. She squinted and blinked in groggy annoyance, then turned over, only to see the back of Christopher's naked body as he sat on the side of the bed, pulling on his boxer-briefs.

Almost instantaneously, scenes from their night together began to replay vividly in her mind. She unconsciously bit down on her lower lip as heat flowed to her cheeks and a funny little pit, equal parts bashful and brazen, knotted in her stomach.

The connection they'd shared had been unreal. She'd had sexual chemistry with other men before, but she and Christopher had just been so…_primal_ together. Her first instinct was to blame the beer from the picnic for her lack of inhibition, but far too much time had passed between her drinking and _them_ for that explanation to be anywhere near believable. Then she wanted to blame her long dry spell, but although that may have been an explanation for her enthusiasm, it couldn't account for the way she'd utterly surrendered to him at the same time.

Her eyes slid over his long neck, the breadth of his shoulders, the ripples of his spine under smooth, elastic skin. She was a little surprised at how strong her physical attraction was to him. He was trim and well-proportioned, but he wasn't a Greek god with a strapping chest and biceps like barrels; that was a description that applied to Luke. While she and Luke had been dating, she'd secretly felt superior to other women who were with men with less titanic physiques. Those other women, she'd thought smugly, had to be jealous that their men weren't nearly the physical specimens that hers was. Yet almost to her chagrin, she'd never had the kind of raw, physical response to Luke that she'd had to Christopher from the moment she'd laid eyes on him -- and that had carried over into the bedroom as well.

Of course, that was exactly why the night, as spectacular as it had been, had been a mistake. As she'd told Rory earlier in the week, she had a new perspective on dating, and it was largely due to her experience dating Luke. She and Luke had been good friends for a long time before they'd begun dating. They had known each other, really known each other, and the relationship had been the strongest she'd ever had because of that. After they'd broken up (and she'd had a series of lame dates with uninteresting men that went nowhere), she'd privately come to the conclusion that "the Luke way" was how she needed to do relationships from now on. Casual dating and impulsive hookups were out; getting to know someone well before getting romantic was in. It was ironic, she noted ruefully, that practically the second she'd articulated these new convictions to someone else, she'd chucked those convictions and gone and had one of the hottest nights of her life.

So she'd had a little lapse (okay, a huge lapse) in judgment; it didn't mean she couldn't get back on the horse and give maturity in dating another -- and better -- whirl. It was kind of too bad that she was going to have to give Christopher the morning-after kiss-off, though. He did seem like a genuinely nice guy, and the sex…well, was there any question she wouldn't mind more of that? It _had_ been six months, and the night had been a little like a starving man finding a five-star gourmet meal laid out for him. But she knew from dating Luke that it took more than great sex to make a great relationship -- and what did she know about Christopher beyond his name?

She quickly decided on a game plan. She'd be kind; friendly yet casual. If he wanted more (and they always did in these situations), she'd firmly but politely refuse and explain her reasoning. He would understand and compliment her good sense, and afterward, they'd both have a nice set of memories. Simple, straightforward, and tactful.

Holding the bedsheet to her chest, she wriggled onto her side and propped herself up on her elbow.

Her movement got Christopher's attention, and he turned around and gave her a little smile. "Hey," he said, and there was warmth in his voice.

His messy morning hair and something about his expression made him look so boyish and adorable that for a moment she forgot her agenda and simply melted. "Hey," she softly returned with a smile of her own.

He appraised her with his eyes, and it made her very aware that she was completely bare underneath the sheet. Her heart started to skitter, and she had to force herself to remember to stick to the plan…whatever that was. "So, you're, uh, you're still here," she said, trying to sound nonchalant as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

Christopher's little smile immediately vanished. "Oh," he said, sounding wounded. "I'm sorry, I was just…" He stood up and looked around the floor. "I need to get my jeans and then I'll…" He motioned with his hand toward the door.

Lorelai's mouth dropped open as she realized his misunderstanding. "No! Oh, God, no, that's not what I meant." She struggled to scoot into a sitting position while still clutching the sheet to her chest. "That's not what I meant at all. I didn't mean that I expected you to leave after -- not that I was hoping you would stay, but…" Looking at Christopher's face, she quickly realized the hole she'd dug herself into and felt stricken. "This is coming out all wrong." What the hell had happened to "simple, straightforward, and tactful"?

"So it's all right that I spent the night," Christopher said cautiously, after a few seconds had passed.

"Yes, of course it's all right," she hurried to reassure him. "I mean, if I had wanted you gone, I could have just, you know, said so afterward. Or I could have hogged the bed so you would be forced out by my passive-aggressiveness. Or I could have thrown all your clothes out the window, which would have made a very interesting journey for you to retrieve them. Of course, it would still have been dark then, so probably only a couple of people would have seen you, one of them being the security guard, but I assure you, he's very discreet."

She offered him a weak smile, while inside she wanted to smack herself. God, what was the matter with her? Her mouth was like a car with broken brakes!

"Okay," Christopher said, sounding rather unconvinced and a little taken aback at her barrage of words.

Now, Lorelai thought, would be a good time for Zeus to show up with his lightning bolt and zap her into the ether right on the spot. She was known for running her mouth, but this was quickly turning into a disaster of _Epic Movie_ proportions. She needed a DeLorean or a telephone booth so she could go back in time and tell herself to just shut up and look pretty.

"No, seriously," she reiterated, determined that he understand, "it's fine. It's astounding how fine it is. I couldn't be more fine with it. The fact that you stayed -- that is finery in all its finest, if you ask me."

"Right," Christopher said, giving Lorelai a look that she interpreted as meaning he was having serious doubts about her sanity. "Listen, do you mind if I go clean up a bit?"

Lorelai felt a queasiness start to rise in her stomach. Was Christopher making an excuse to leave? Had she chased him off with her idiotic prattling? How had they gone from fireworks to this in the span of several hours? All of her plans to take the high road in giving him the perfect dismissal now lay wrecked in an embarrassing, smoking heap.

"No, go ahead," she told him with dismal resignation. "There are clean towels in the closet behind the door."

"Thanks," he said flatly. Her spirits fell even further when he picked up his shoes from the floor and took them with him. As he left, he closed the door behind him.

Lorelai flopped back down on the bed and reached for her pillow. She put it over her face and screamed.

* * *

Rory paid the cab driver (who didn't look that happy with the tip she gave him) and started climbing the steps.

On the ride home, her thoughts had turned from Dean to the picnic the day before. Actually, her thoughts had turned not to the picnic so much as one person who had attended it.

Logan Huntzberger.

She couldn't stop reviewing the strange scene they'd had yesterday in the tent. At work Logan rarely spoke to her, other than to communicate in group settings what he wanted her and the other copywriters to do for whatever ad campaign they were working on. The one time she _had_ spoken to him one-on-one, he'd needed her to tell him her name. After she had, he asked her whether she thought Jolly Ranchers or Starburst was a better choice for the office candy bowl. She'd said Jolly Ranchers. The next day, the office candy bowl was filled with Starburst.

She just couldn't figure Logan out. Supposedly he had some brains -- one day in the break room she'd overheard Finn and Colin jealously discussing how Logan could have had graduated Yale with a B average despite his heavy partying schedule -- but Rory had yet to see any concrete evidence of it. It frustrated her that she was working her tail off, but Logan only seemed half-there at any given moment. And then for him to act at the picnic like they were practically friends was just bizarre.

As she got into the elevator, she wondered what work was going to be like on Tuesday -- if Logan would be back to normal, or if he would acknowledge that they'd talked at the picnic. She decided she shouldn't get her hopes up. Tuesday was a couple days away, which gave him plenty of time to forget.

As the elevator door slid open on the seventh floor, she started thinking about how nice taking a shower and getting into some fresh clothes would feel.

She pulled out her key, unlocked the door to the apartment, and kicked off her shoes once she was inside. Padding down the hallway to the bathroom, she let her mind go on autopilot, letting her feet lead the way.

She pushed open the bathroom door, and her heart nearly stopped.

_There was a naked man in there, drying his face with a towel._

For a second, she was paralyzed with shock. The next, she screamed at the top of her lungs.

* * *

Lorelai nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard Rory's scream. She quickly finished pulling a tank top over her head and started toward the door, when the door burst open and Rory dashed inside.

"Lorelai!" Rory hissed, her bright eyes wild. "Lorelai, there is a naked man in the bathroom! I don't know how he got in there, but you have to call the cops!"

She tore over to Lorelai's closet. "You keep the bat in here, right? I know you've got a bat, it was one of those Louisville Sluggers," she went on frantically, not waiting for an answer before flinging open the door and delving inside. A few seconds later, she emerged with an aluminum bat in her white hands. Judging by her wobbling stance, Lorelai decided it was safe to assume this might have been the first time Rory had ever held a bat in her hands.

"Stay here!" Rory barked. "I can handle this! Don't worry, I took that self-defense class last year! I can flip a guy over the shoulder who's twice my size, and very honestly I'm not afraid to break some bones when the occasion calls for it!"

Lorelai took one look at Rory's frenzied expression, and suddenly all the pieces clicked. "Oh, Kid," she said emphatically, holding up her hands. "Rory, just calm down."

"What?!" Rory nearly spat. "Didn't you just hear what I said? There is a strange and very naked man in the bathroom, and the longer we wait, the more time there is for that pervert to get away!"

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door.

"Lorelai?" came Christopher's muffled voice, sounding both hesitant and concerned. "Is everything okay?"

Rory gave Lorelai a sharp look, and Lorelai waved her off. "Um, everything's fine," she called. "Just go back to doing, uh, whatever it is you were doing."

Rory's eyes almost bugged out of her head. "That guy knows your name? How does he know your name? He should not be knowing your name! I've never seen him before in my life and I'm pretty sure you haven't, either! If he's on a first name basis with you, then he's either a crazy stalker or he's--"

And suddenly she went very quiet. A few seconds passed. Agape, she lowered the bat and continued to stare at Lorelai.

Lorelai cringed guiltily.

Rory's mouth moved a few times before actual words came out. "Is that -- is that the guy Taylor set you up with?" she asked incredulously.

Lorelai cringed some more. "Not exactly."

Rory blinked in disbelief. "So you're telling me that you had your date with Taylor's guy, and then you went and found _this_ guy and you brought him home and got wacky with him?"

"Uh…sort of."

Rory crossed her arms and gave Lorelai a very parental look. "Okay, Lucy, you got some 'splainin' to do."

Quickly, Lorelai gave Rory a rundown of what had happened. Eventually, all of Rory's features took the shape of an O.

"Oh, my," she said, putting her hand to her chest.

"Yeah."

"So that guy and you--?"

"Yeah."

"You really…?"

"Yeah."

"And it was…?"

"Oh, it _was_, it most definitely was. Like, earth moving under my feet, sky come tumbling down _was_."

"Wow." Rory paused to process. "So what are you going to do now?"

"Well, this morning got off to something of an awkward start, courtesy _moi_, and then you came along and screamed bloody murder, so I figure I may have to do nothing if this guy's good sense has now told him to run away as fast as his damnably fine legs will carry him."

"And if he happens not to possess such good sense?"

"He struck me as a possessor of good sense. But don't worry, it's probably for the best. I mean, it wasn't going to turn into the next great American love story."

Rory gave Lorelai a sympathetic look.

"But look at you," Lorelai said, noticing Rory's clothes. "Someone took the big yellow taxi ride of shame this morning."

Rory's cheeks turned pink. "It's not what you think," she informed Lorelai.

"I don't think mine eyes deceive me," Lorelai said.

"I mean it."

"So do I."

Rory rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Fine, believe whatever you want."

Lorelai smiled wickedly. "Oh, I will."

"Okay, I hear a shower calling my name." Rory laid the bat against the wall and opened the door.

Christopher was standing on the other side, fully dressed, his hand poised to knock. He looked down at Rory, whose eyes grew wide. She quickly averted them in embarrassment and mumbled an "oh, good morning" as she ducked by him. Before disappearing into her room, she turned her head to give Lorelai a quick look of encouragement. A second later, there was the sound of her door shutting.

Lorelai looked at Christopher sheepishly. "Hi."

"May I come in?" Christopher asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lorelai nodded.

"You didn't tell me you had a sister," Christopher said, motioning in the direction Rory had gone. "Was she here when we…?"

Lorelai shook her head, slightly amused that yet another person had thought that she and Rory were related. "She's not my sister, she's my roommate, and no, she wasn't."

"Well, thank God for that," Christopher said, sounding relieved. "Look, maybe we could talk for a sec? I had some time to think, and I kind of feel like this morning didn't start out so great."

"I'll admit I've had better starts, but I also haven't had my Special K yet."

"Is a redo out of the question?"

"I think I owe you one."

They walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge.

Christopher took a breath. "I had an amazing time last night. I thought you were absolutely out of this world. I didn't want to leave before I told you that." He paused and looked her in the eyes. "And I was hoping maybe I could see you again."

The pit returned to Lorelai's gut. "Oh," she breathed unhappily. She no longer trusted herself to sever ties in a way that could be described as "simple, straightforward, and tactful."

Christopher drew back, disappointment showing clearly on his face. "Oh. Okay, I understand," he said. He started to stand up. "I really did have a wonder--"

"Wait," Lorelai interrupted, grabbing onto his wrist and pulling him back down. Even touching his wrist, she noted dolefully, made her fingertips tingle. "Wait. I need to explain."

Christopher sat back down and looked at her expectantly.

"I had a really, really great time last night," Lorelai began. "I mean, really great. I have not had a night like that in a long time, or maybe ever." She glanced at him to make sure he knew she was being sincere. "But, I just got out of a five-year relationship six months ago, and it made me realize that I need to do relationships the right way. You know, really getting to know someone first; that's what we had. It may sound kind of _Leave It to Beaver_, but I think it's right. Last night…last night doesn't really fit into that."

Christopher took a moment to absorb her words. "I see."

"I'm sorry. If it makes you feel better, the me of ten years ago would totally have been all over that."

Christopher chuckled. "No, no, don't be sorry. I get it, I totally get it. I actually just got out of a fairly serious relationship three months ago, and it didn't work out because we didn't have that foundation, so yeah, I get what you're saying, completely. And, to be really honest, I'm not looking for something serious right now."

Lorelai gave him a small, appreciative smile. "This conversation is turning out to be disturbingly healthy."

"It's the broccoli of morning afters." Chris smiled and stood. "Well, thanks for last night," he said, an air of conclusion in his voice. "I really did have an amazing time."

Lorelai stood also and walked with him to the door. "Yeah, me, too," she said sincerely.

Christopher gazed down at her for a second and then leaned in, and Lorelai met him halfway as their lips touched in a good-bye kiss.

Immediately she felt the sparks, as strong in the day as they'd been at night, and without thinking, she parted her lips slightly to lock lips with him again…and then again. His mouth was warm and just the right kind of pliant, and fizzy tingles spread from her lips through the rest of her body. The intensity multiplied with each new kiss, and the next thing she knew, the tips of their tongues were brushing together, and his palm was cradling her face, and then his tongue pushed fully inside her mouth, and she moaned because it was so good and her body wanted him so much, and --

Abruptly she pulled away, breathless.

"Oh, God, giving this up is not an option," she gasped, overwhelmed by what had come over her. She had a sinking feeling that left to her own devices, she could easily spend the better part of a day just making out with this man, and the remainder of it doing what came next. Very enthusiastically.

"We need an option," Christopher said, sounding just as overwhelmed as she did.

"We need an option," Lorelai agreed, looking at Christopher's mouth, and their lips crashed together for another heated kiss until Lorelai again ripped her mouth away.

"Oh, this is strong," she breathed.

"Gotta fight it," he muttered distractedly, moving to kiss her again.

They kissed hungrily as her fingers slid from his shoulder to his neck and into his hair. Her lips felt like an overloaded nerve center, unable to process anything but sensation. Suddenly, an idea came to her, and she managed to break off the kiss, her heart beating at the audacity.

"Wait," she said.

"That word again." Christopher lowered his mouth to hers, but she dodged him.

"Wait. What if…what if we had rules?" she suggested tentatively.

"Rules?" he asked, looking like he was still trying to get over the end of their kissing.

"Rules that would keep this _this_," Lorelai explained, trying to ignore the fact that she was echoing the very ideas that she'd rejected from Paris.

The light seemed to dawn in his eyes. "Rules of attraction," he stated.

She nodded, thinking rapidly. "No phone calls just to talk. No dates. No eating together."

"No eating together?"

"No eating together. Too date-like."

"Ah."

"And it would only be while neither of us was dating anyone else. It's about solving the needs of the here and now. Because I don't know about you, but the last six months for me have been drier than James Bond's martini and the prospect of potentially repeating that is about as appealing as listening to Ashlee Simpson sing."

"Ashlee? What about that caterwauling that Jessica tries to pass off as vocal talent?"

"Hey, don't get sidetracked."

"Right. How about, if one of us starts dating someone, we have to tell the other person."

"And then this" -- Lorelai indicated the two of them -- "is off. No exceptions."

They looked at each other, agreement -- and, if Lorelai were being completely honest, a little excitement -- passing silently between them.

The sound of running water intruded on the moment, and Lorelai realized that Rory had started her shower.

She glanced at Christopher, and he at her.

A split-second later, she was tangled in his arms.

"This has to be quick," she admonished between kisses as they moved toward her bed.

"Not a problem," he murmured, smiling against her lips as he peeled off her tank top, "but you should try to be a little quieter than last night."

She answered him with laughter as he attacked her neck, and they giddily fell back onto the mattress.


	5. Romps and Roses

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to everyone who has been reading this story so far! It recently passed the 1000-hit mark! :)**

* * *

**CHAPTER 5 - ROMPS AND ROSES**

The line at Betty's, a little eatery on the top floor of the building where Huntzberger and Stiles had its offices, was inordinately long for a Thursday at one thirty, a situation which greatly displeased Lorelai. She and Rory ate at Betty's nearly every weekday for lunch for two main reasons: one, Betty's was just a short elevator ride from their desks, and two, despite many vows to change, Lorelai and Rory had yet to make a single lunch for themselves.

"It's not that making a sandwich is so hard," Rory had said one day when they were discussing why it was, exactly, that they seemed incapable of preparing their own lunches.

"It's that Betty's skill and expertise far outstrips our own," Lorelai had continued.

"And who are we to deny her an opportunity to shine?"

Lorelai had looked solemn. "Never let it be said we did a job that another American was perfectly ready, willing, and more than able to do."

"We're saving the economy."

"If we start making our own lunches, the terrorists have won."

It had been a very patriotic moment for both of them.

"I really don't get what the holdup is," Lorelai said impatiently to Rory, craning her neck to see what was going on farther up the line. "The special today is turkey on pumpernickel. Who has a big jones for pumpernickel? First of all, it's called pumpernickel. Just say that. Pumpernickel. It cries on the playground when wheat and white come to beat it up. Second of all, it tastes like tar and should come with a warning from the Surgeon General, and third of all, my mother likes to serve it at her DAR meetings with little wedges of Swiss, and if there's one thing I can't abide, it's knowingly eating the same sustenance of women whose goal in life is to shackle other women to antiquated traditions of domestic felicity."

The little speech had no effect on Rory. "You're starving, aren't you?" Rory asked.

"I'm going to eat my fist pretty soon if I don't get some nourishment."

As the line crawled forward, Lorelai gazed longingly at the trays of every person who passed by. Only a few had the tar-flavored pumpernickel sandwich, but there were many other trays featuring heavenly-smelling vegetable soup, toasted paninis, and crisp, colorful salads. She nearly whimpered when a portly man walked by with all three on his tray.

At last, Lorelai and Rory finally made it to the front of the line. After Rory put in her order for a modest chef salad, Lorelai asked for one of everything except the turkey on pumpernickel.

The cashier, a new girl who couldn't have been more than twenty, looked very confused. "I'm sorry, could you repeat your order please?" she asked in the polite tone of voice that was undoubtedly the product of training sessions.

Lorelai waved her hand. "No, no, you're right. Half of everything, minus the pumpernickel."

"Half of everything, minus the pumpernickel?" The cashier looked a little frightened at the prospect of having to figure out how to ring up such an order.

"Hmm, make that a third. I don't want to overdo it."

Rory quickly stepped in to rescue the poor cashier. "She means she wants the Italian panini, the soup of the day, the breadsticks, and a chocolate shake," Rory told her.

"Ooh, yeah, that," Lorelai said excitedly. "I want that."

The cashier looked only slightly less frazzled at that order but dutifully punched in the prices.

Lorelai pulled out some money to pay, and a few minutes later, she and Rory were making their way out onto the terrace, where there were some tables shaded by umbrellas. Normally they didn't like to eat outside (bugs, heat, humidity that ruined Lorelai's hair), but today the weather was nice, with a pleasant breeze, and the view of the city was impressive.

Once they were seated, Lorelai immediately tore into the food in front of her. Over the next several minutes, she was uncharacteristically silent as the soup and breadsticks disappeared along with half of the chocolate shake. Finally she began to slow down and eat at a normal rate as she dug into the panini.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," Rory said, amused.

"God, it feels good to be back," Lorelai said, washing down a huge bite of panini with big gulp of shake. "For a while there, I could have been the subject of a musical charity single from the eighties. Bono and his mullet could have sung for my benefit."

"You could have been Quincy Jones's muse indeed."

Rory's cell phone beeped with a text message, and Rory pulled it out of her purse to take a look.

Lorelai grinned. "How's Dean?" she asked, referring to the text.

Rory gave Lorelai a look. "How do you know it's from Dean?"

"I'm tapped into the Psychic Friends Network."

Rory read the message, then raised her eyebrows, impressed. "He says he's got a surprise for me," she informed Lorelai.

"Ooh, like a naked surprise?"

"He did not specify the type of surprise, and get your mind out of the gutter."

"Hmm, that's gonna be tough."

"The MPAA needs to put a warning on you."

"So what do you think the surprise is?"

Rory shrugged. "I have absolutely no idea."

Their conversation was interrupted by the boisterous arrival of some new guests to the terrace. Like a star with his entourage, Logan Huntzberger marched onto the patio with Colin and Finn in tow, along with an exotic-looking brunette and a petite blonde. They sat down a few tables away from Lorelai and Rory and generally behaved like they were at their own private party.

Lorelai looked over at Rory and saw her eyebrows knitting together.

"Don't even say it," she instructed Rory, already predicting what her friend was going to say.

"Why are they here?" Rory asked, sounding annoyed. "They never eat here. This is our place for them not to be here."

Lorelai sighed. "I don't know, Kid. Just do your best to shut it out."

Rory watched Logan feed a piece of fruit to the brunette, then turned her attention back to Lorelai. "So, it sounds like things are going well with Christopher," she said, primly stabbing at some lettuce.

Lorelai immediately picked up on the irony of Rory's statement. Ever since Christopher had started making regular visits to Lorelai's bedroom, Rory had suddenly become very fond of vacuuming until Christopher left. The result was the cleanest floor the apartment had ever seen. Lorelai considered it a win-win, at least for herself.

Nearly three weeks had passed since she and Christopher had met at the H&S picnic, and Lorelai honestly could not remember a time when she had had this much fun.

Christopher had turned out to be the perfect partner. Not only did the chemistry between them continue to be hot and hungry, but Christopher also had a very playful, mischievous side that matched her own. He was not opposed to tickling, blowing raspberries, pretending to gnaw on her arm, or betting her fifty dollars that she couldn't stay quiet. (She still hadn't won the fifty dollars, but she was determined to…at some point.) He could work her into fits of laughter, and she could do the same to him. And then later, when they were sweaty and satisfied, he could still find ways to make her giggle.

It was an arrangement that was working out exceptionally well. She'd even learned to text because of it, because that was how she and Christopher arranged their get-togethers. They saw each other two or three times a week, and in between they went on with their regular lives. Lorelai thought of her times with Christopher as a mini-vacation, a retreat from the stresses of her job which had been piling up now that the Ashley Benton perfume campaign was underway. While some people escaped with chocolate, shopping, or a gym membership, Lorelai had Christopher for a few hours a week, which in her opinion was by far the best escape of all.

"Yeah, I think they are," she replied, unable to keep a little smile off her face. "I mean, when we started this, I wasn't a hundred percent sure if it was going to work, but it really seems like everything's clicking just right."

"Well, I guess that's great, then."

Lorelai raised an eyebrow. "You guess?"

Rory looked a little uncomfortable. "I just don't want you to get hurt, that's all."

Lorelai's eyebrows knitted together in disbelief. "Rory, no one is getting hurt here. We're adults, we're being adult about this, we know the rules."

"I know. I just…I just want what's best for you."

"I know you do," Lorelai said understandingly. "Look, tomorrow I could meet The Guy, the one I'm supposed to be with, and nothing would make me happier. I wish I _would_ meet him tomorrow, and that he would have many mocha-flavored chocolates to give me. But we don't get guarantees, and I don't know when the next Luke will come along. Maybe it won't be for a long time, but I can't sit around and lock myself in a china closet while I'm waiting. I'm just not built that way."

"Lorelai, I get it, I really do," Rory insisted. "And I'm honestly thrilled that you're in such a good place right now. Just promise…just promise me that if you start having feelings for Christopher and you don't think he has those same feelings that you'll end things."

Lorelai looked at Rory. "You really think that's going to be a problem."

"I hope it's not," Rory said, her big blue eyes full of earnestness. "But if it is, I want you to have a plan."

Lorelai pursed her lips. "It'll make you happy if I promise?"

"It'll make me extremely happy if you promise."

"All right, then," Lorelai said with a tiny sigh, "I promise." She raised her right hand. "I promise Rory Leigh that if I somehow happen to develop romantic feelings for Christopher Haden, I will put an end to the fabulous sex romps that we are currently and frequently engaging in."

"Thank you."

"Speaking of romps, our apartment will be romp-free tonight."

"Really?" The tantalizing prospect of not vacuuming gleamed in Rory's eyes.

"Really. I'm going to his place tonight. He's finally all moved in."

Christopher had moved to New York from Silicon Valley as part of a job transfer only two weeks before he met Lorelai. Since then, he had been staying with his boss until he found an apartment for himself. As a result, all of his and Lorelai's trysts so far had been at Lorelai and Rory's apartment, but a day ago, he'd sent a text to Lorelai telling her to come over to his "crib" this time.

"Wow, big step."

"Eh, I have a feeling it'll be business as usual. We're very goal-oriented."

"I've noticed."

"How can you notice? You're too busy vacuuming."

"Um, do the words 'Give it to me, Christopher, nobody can do it like you, Daddy?' ring a bell?"

"Oh, ha. Funny story: that was just me trying to get you to start vacuuming. You were kind of sluggish there the other night."

Rory put her face in her hands and shook her head. "I can't believe you."

"Believe it, babe."

Lorelai grinned wickedly, but before she could antagonize Rory more, an impressed murmur ran through the people who were eating outside. Lorelai looked around and quickly spotted what had drawn their attention.

A delivery man carrying a large bouquet of roses had appeared at the door and was looking around the terrace. The roses were in full, glorious bloom, all a beautiful, fresh pink except for one, which was blood red. The arrangement was so striking that even Logan and his crowd had stopped talking for a moment in order to take a look.

The delivery man walked up to one table and spoke to the woman who was sitting there. The woman shook her head and pointed in Lorelai and Rory's direction.

As the delivery man approached, Lorelai became filled with a strange sort of panic. What if the flowers were from Christopher? She didn't expect them to be -- they had made an addendum of "no gifts" to their rules -- and he didn't seem like the flower-giving type, but…what if? The question ricocheted around in her brain as the delivery man came closer with each step.

It was not Lorelai, however, in front of whom he stopped.

It was Rory.

"Rory Leigh?" he asked.

Rory looked stunned. "That's me," she croaked out.

The delivery man placed the bouquet in Rory's arms and left.

Rory pulled out the card and read it. "They're from Dean," she said, still sounding shocked.

"I guess we know what his surprise is now," Lorelai pointed out.

Suddenly, cheering, clapping, and whistling broke out from Logan's direction. Lorelai looked over to see Logan, Colin, and Finn all standing and applauding with huge smiles on their faces.

"Way to go, Rory Leigh!" Logan called out, clapping heavily. He stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled.

Rory took one look at Logan and turned deep red.

"I need to get back to work," she mumbled, not raising her eyes.

Lorelai glanced between Rory and Logan, who was now sitting back down but still clapping. "Okay, yeah," she said, and they got up, leaving their trays at their table.

* * *

It was late afternoon, and Rory found herself staring at half-written copy on her computer, with not a single fresh idea coming to her. How hard was it to write about how a new hair serum was supposed to make you feel? Girls wanted sleek, smooth hair; this goo would do it for you. Maybe she could use _that_ as her copy.

She sighed in frustration and glanced over at the vase filled with Dean's roses. They seemed to take up the majority of space in her little cubicle, and she suddenly resented them.

Half of the secretaries on the floor had stopped by to see the roses and gush over them, which had forced her to have to tell each of them about Dean. And the more she had to talk about Dean, the more she didn't want to talk about Dean. Of course, all the secretaries thought it was very hot that she was dating a hockey player, and they gleefully plied her with innuendo-laden hints about how to enjoy her time with him. By the time the last one left, Rory almost wished there was no Dean at all.

What was she going to do about him? Ever since the Memorial Day picnic, it had started becoming evident that there was an imbalance of feelings in the relationship. At first it had been just an inkling, an indefinable sense, but lately it had been growing, and now, with the roses, it was pretty much irrefutable. _Why did he have to go and do this?_ she wondered irritably. She liked things the way they were.

Her desk phone rang, and Rory answered. "Rory Leigh."

"Hey, Kid, it's me," a woman's voice which could only be Lorelai's replied. "Got a second?"

"I have many seconds," Rory replied wearily. "I'm currently experiencing a very unfortunate case of writer's block."

"Ooh, excellent. I mean, for me; I'm sorry about the writer's block. I need to vent."

Rory leaned back in her chair. "Vent away."

For the next fifteen minutes, Rory listened to Lorelai rant about the incompetence of the people on her team. Ashley Benton wanted her perfume to be called Elegance, even though she exuded more of a plastic picnic plate sensibility than one of fine china. Unable to get Ashley to change the name of her fragrance to something more suitable, Lorelai had charged her team with brainstorming ideas to somehow sell Ashley as elegant. So far, everyone had been pitching variations on Ashley's reality star tabloid image: having her get out of a limo in a sexy dress (Colin had sniggered "underwear optional" at that one), having her pose with a champagne flute in hand ("We're not advertising bubbly here," Lorelai had raged), and photographing her at an expensive restaurant while wearing lots of diamonds ("Um, last time I checked, Harry Winston is not our client."). All of the ideas were very "L.A." and very not what Lorelai felt the campaign needed.

Rory pressed her lips together as she considered Lorelai's problem. "Well," she said, "think about your client. Ashley is a small-town girl turned reality star. In her mind, she's probably Cinderella. Having all these big-city luxuries is probably like going to the Prince's ball for her. Maybe you could do something with that."

There was a pause on the other end, and then Lorelai said, "My God, you're a genius."

Rory smiled. "I try."

"Okay, I'm getting another call. Talk to you later."

Rory hung up the phone and turned back to her screen. Almost instantly, the phone rang again. "Hey, that was a quick turnaround," she joked into the receiver. "Other caller hang up on you?"

"I'm sorry, am I speaking to Rory Leigh?"

The voice on the other end of the line was Logan Huntzberger's, and it sounded very confused.

Rory blanched. "Yes, this is Rory," she said quickly.

"Uh, okay. Rory, could I see you in my office, please?"

Rory felt an irrational state of panic grip her. "Uh, sure, I'll be right down."

What could Logan possibly want to talk to her about?

* * *

A few minutes later, Rory tentatively pushed open the door to Logan's office and poked her head in.

"Hi, you wanted to see me?" she asked.

Logan sat at his large desk, squinting at his computer screen and tapping at the keyboard. Several messy piles of folders and papers cluttered the workspace, and it gave a little bit of the impression that Logan was drowning -- an impression Rory was pretty sure was not entirely inaccurate. The office itself was very attractively furnished, with a plush couch against one wall and framed artwork from former Huntzberger and Stiles ad campaigns hanging on the walls. The overall effect was that of a savvy and confident executive…except for the man in the middle.

"Yeah, have a seat," Logan said, still focusing on the computer scene. He waved absently at the chairs in front of his desk.

Rory sat and waited, feeling very self-conscious. She felt glad she had remembered to put on deodorant that morning.

Finally, after a few vicious taps at the keyboard, Logan turned away from his work. "Hi," he said, concentrating all his attention on Rory. "How are you?"

It took Rory aback a little at how quickly he had shifted gears. "Uh, fine."

"Just fine? You're just fine after all those roses?"

Rory felt her face coloring for the second time that day as she recalled Logan's reaction at Betty's. "Oh, those. Uh, well, I'm especially fine now." She tried to put some extra pep into the last part of the sentence.

Logan gave her a very amused smile. "High maintenance," he said, shaking his head slightly. "I hope Dean knows what he's gotten himself into."

Rory's mouth dropped open. "Are you saying I'm high maintenance?" she asked, genuinely shocked that her boss would say such a thing to her. A tiny, other part of her brain marveled that he even remembered she was dating someone, much less Dean's name.

Logan raised a brow slightly. "Most girls would die of happiness if their man sent them a dozen roses at work, but all you can say is that you're fine. I think it's a valid conclusion."

"Well -- well," she sputtered, "it's not. I thought they were beautiful."

"Good, good," Logan said, nodding as though he actually cared. "You should tell him that. Guys love hearing that kind of stuff."

It was on the tip of Rory's tongue to tell Logan she didn't need his advice on how to deal with men, but she fortunately remembered in time that he was her boss, so she kept her mouth shut and simply nodded.

Logan pulled out a folder from one of the crooked stacks on his desk. He opened the folder and flipped to a page of interest, then looked back at Rory. "Do you like baseball?"

Rory's head was spinning from all of the strange changes of direction the conversation was taking. "I don't hate baseball," she said, not sure where he was going with this.

"Do you like the Yankees?"

"I guess, I mean, I'm in New York."

"That's okay, if you're a Red Sox fan, I won't look down on you or anything."

"I'm not a -- I mean, I'm not really into sports."

Logan gazed at Rory intently for a few seconds. "So you wouldn't be interested in going to a game at all. Ever."

Rory's heart started to race. What was he getting at? "It wouldn't be my first choice," she said cautiously.

"Hmm." Logan looked disappointed. "I was afraid you'd say that."

He picked up his phone and punched a few numbers. "Vicky, I need you to cancel the Yankees skybox and get us tickets to _Jersey Boys_ instead…Right, same day. It's the only time that works with Sasha's schedule…Thanks, you're a doll."

He set the phone down and pressed his fingertips together. "All right, Rory, thanks, that was really helpful."

Rory just stared at Logan. Was that it?

He seemed to sense her question. "You can go back to work," he said.

He immediately went back to his computer, and Rory, dazed, got up and returned to her cubicle, completely confused and seriously suspicious that her boss had just used her opinion to help him make plans with a new girlfriend…and wondering why he would have called her to his office when he could have just asked her over the phone.

* * *

It was almost ten o'clock at night when Lorelai knocked on the door to Christopher's apartment. It had been a long day, first with her frustration over her team's subpar submissions for Ashley Benton's perfume, and then with her brainstorming session once Rory had suggested a Cinderella theme. Thank goodness for Rory. Now Lorelai would actually have something decent to share with Mitchum tomorrow at their meeting.

Her body, still clad in her blouse and skirt from work, felt weary, but a little gush of renewal bubbled up when Christopher opened the door with a smile on his face.

"I was beginning to wonder about you," he said, ushering her inside. After he closed the door, he paused to give her a lingering kiss, which had become their customary greeting.

"Mmm, that was nice," Lorelai murmured when they parted. Christopher's kiss had gone a long way in reviving her.

"There's more where that came from, just so you know," Christopher told her with a little grin.

"Good," Lorelai said, planting another kiss on his lips.

The kiss quickly multiplied into a series of kisses, and soon Lorelai was unbuttoning her blouse while Christopher unzipped her skirt.

"You don't want the grand tour first?" Christopher asked as Lorelai slid her hands up his chest underneath his T-shirt.

"It can wait," she replied, pressing a kiss to his chest. "This can't."

Christopher chuckled as he pulled off his shirt. "I guess we can start with the bedroom," he said, grinning as he guided her back to his room.

* * *

Lorelai's hair was sticking to her face as she lay on Christopher's chest, but she didn't care, because she was pretty sure all of her bones had been turned to jelly and moving just wasn't an option.

They lay there panting hard and grinning madly, until they calmed enough to begin talking.

"Wow," Lorelai said. Complete sentences were still a little beyond her grasp.

"Seconded."

She continued to lie there, letting the final set of aftershocks fade away as Christopher's hands gently slid over the length of her back and curved over her bottom.

"We've got a good thing going here, don't we," she said to him.

"I've got no complaints," he replied.

With a satisfied sigh, she wriggled off him and rolled onto her back. If she lay there much longer, she was going to fall asleep.

"I needed that," she said, pulling a pillow underneath her head. "It was a really long day today."

Christopher turned onto his side and propped himself up with his elbow. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I've got about ten thousand different things flying around in my head right now. It's kind of a traffic jam upstairs."

"You didn't seem too distracted before."

Lorelai grinned. "Well, that was all instinct."

She told him about her frustrations at work and the pressure she was feeling about getting the Ashley Benton campaign off the ground. She spoke animatedly, recounting many of the same things she'd told Rory, but the venom of that moment had dissipated into a more objective -- and resigned -- telling. It felt good, though, to unburden herself to someone outside of work. Sometimes she regretted venting to Rory because Rory was so close to what was going on.

"I know I can do it, it just gets to be a little much sometimes," she concluded. "Sorry, I hope I didn't bore you. I know we don't usually talk about work."

"Nah, I don't mind. It sounds like you've got quite the cast of characters there."

She gave him an arch smile. "You're a sweet fibber."

"Honest, not a fib. I really didn't mind."

"That's just 'cause you're getting some."

They exchanged affectionate smirks.

"So how about the rest of that grand tour?" Christopher asked.

"Oh, right, that. I know we said no gifts, so I didn't get you a housewarming gift, but next time you go out, order yourself a shot of Jack and pretend it's from me."

Christopher chuckled. "I'll do that."

They got out of bed, and their quest to find their shed clothing took them back to the entrance to the apartment.

Christopher's place was shaped like a shoebox, with the entryway on one of the long sides. The main door opened into the living space. The kitchen was to the left, and the bathroom and bedroom on the other side of the living area. The apartment looked like it had been freshly remodeled, with contemporary colors and new appliances in the kitchen. The only eyesore was a long, ugly, green upholstered couch which Christopher professed was the most comfortable couch he'd ever sat on, and he'd refused to give it up when he moved.

In the living room, a giant flat screen TV opposite the couch covered most of one wall, and the bookshelves were filled with CDs and DVDs. A quick perusal of the titles revealed taste Lorelai could mostly approve of, although one CD in particular caused her to wrinkle her brow. She pulled it out and held it up to Christopher.

"Beyoncé? What are you doing with a Beyoncé CD?" she asked.

Christopher laughed and put it back on the shelf. "That's for the days I feel down about being a man and self-flagellation isn't enough."

Lorelai gave him a funny look, then gasped lightly when she saw about ten different video game consoles in the cabinet beneath the TV.

"Oh, my God, what are all these for?" she asked, truly astonished that one person could own that many different systems.

"Well, I believe I told you that I'm in the gaming industry," he said. "I love games, always have. And even though my bosses wouldn't like the fact that I play on other systems, I've gotta tell you, those other systems have got some good stuff. Here, I'll show you."

He pulled out a white box from the cabinet, then clicked on the TV. A few button pushes later, a menu appeared showing several different sports to choose from, and Christopher highlighted tennis. He handed Lorelai something that looked like a remote. "Here."

"What's this?"

"Your racquet," he said with a grin.

Fifteen minutes later, Lorelai was ready to collapse from laughter. She was terrible at the game, and despite her best efforts, her wild swings of the remote were resulting in her onscreen character flinging herself all over the place with the strangest motions. Two swings later, and Christopher had completely demolished her.

"So, what'd you think?" he asked, a big grin on his face.

"I think I'm horrible," Lorelai told him. "I have no coordination whatsoever."

Christopher ran a hand down her arm. "I don't think that's entirely true," he said suggestively, and Lorelai felt a little thrill go through her.

"I've got to go," she said regretfully, handing him back the remote. "Big day tomorrow."

Christopher nodded and walked her to the door. "Are we still on for next week?"

"You bet. And I'm coming back over here because I've got to try that thing again."

Christopher smiled and leaned in to kiss her. "Which thing?"

Lorelai swatted him. "I think you know what I mean."

They kissed again, and Christopher watched her walk to the elevator before shutting the door.


	6. Hungry Like the Drunk Grizzly Bear

**CHAPTER 6 - HUNGRY LIKE THE DRUNK GRIZZLY BEAR**

The two weeks after Lorelai's first visit to Christopher's apartment sped by. During that time, Lorelai felt like her life had become a never-ending cycle of crisis management (anything Colin and Finn tried to do qualified as a crisis in Lorelai's book), meetings with Mitchum (who wanted daily briefings on the Ashley Benton account), and too little sleep.

The last item, she had to admit, was largely her fault. She was working long hours, but that only accounted for a certain amount of sleep loss. The real culprit was the time she had started to spend at Christopher's.

Now that he had his own place and no roommate to take into consideration, the increased privacy made his apartment ideal for their trysts. Lorelai had quickly become familiar with the place, especially Christopher's movie and music collections, and deep down she liked being able to go there. It added to the feeling of getting away from the daily grind, something she sorely needed; plus, she'd quickly discovered that Christopher hadn't been lying about the comfort of the ugly green couch. It really was comfortable to sit on, although, truth be told, recently she'd done far more lying on it on account of a few steamy makeout sessions.

"My parents would not approve of this at all," Lorelai had admonished, breathless and grinning, during the middle of one such occasion.

"Then I should keep doing what I'm doing," Christopher had responded with a grin of his own.

"Exactly."

It wasn't until recently that Lorelai had realized that she and Christopher were no longer rushing into sex. Not that they didn't still eagerly head for his bedroom, but other things had started creeping into their relationship. When they'd first gotten together, they could barely be in each other's presence for two seconds before they started tearing each other's clothes off. Lately, however, things had started changing. In addition to indulging in lengthy makeout sessions, Lorelai had started noticing that they were talking more. Not about deep, personal things, but he would tell her funny stories about his video game-obsessed coworkers, and she would find herself updating him on the latest H&S drama. The odd thing about it all was that she never had any intention of talking about work or anything else personal, but he had a way of drawing things out of her, and the craziest part of it all was that half the time, she wouldn't even realize it until she was sitting in the back seat of a taxi, reviewing the evening on her way home.

The communicative side of Christopher had surprised her. She supposed it was because she had grown so used to Luke, who was the textbook definition of the strong and silent type. Fortunately for Lorelai, Luke had also had an endlessly patient listening ear, so Lorelai had never thought twice about dumping any thought on him that came to her. The question of whether Luke had been interested in any of those thoughts had honestly never occurred to her; she had just assumed he was because he was Luke, and that was what he did. But after spending time with Christopher, who knew the name of every band she had ever mentioned and could rarely be stumped on any pop culture minutiae, Lorelai had begun to wonder just how interested Luke had been in the things Lorelai had liked.

Of course, Christopher could never compare to Luke in the ways that truly mattered. In the months following her breakup with Luke, Lorelai had come to realize how lucky she had been to date someone like him. Luke was loyal, stable, and mature, and there had been nothing Lorelai had desired that he hadn't provided. Sometimes Lorelai felt that finding someone who could live up to that high standard was an impossible task. She'd had to laugh when Rory had suggested the other night that maybe Christopher was worth a second look.

"What's so funny?" Rory had asked, sounding serious. "You two seem to get along, and you're always talking about him."

Lorelai had given her a strange look as she reached into the popcorn bowl between them on the couch. "What happened to you making me swear to break it off if I started developing feelings for him?"

"I said you should break it off if you start having feelings for him and he doesn't have feelings back for you," Rory corrected her. "It's a small but significant difference."

"Well, I haven't developed any feelings for him, so I think I'm off the hook."

Rory had looked at her skeptically. "Really? No feelings?"

"None whatsoever. I mean, we obviously don't hate each other, but I _have_ given it some thought, and I just can't see myself with someone like him in any kind of long-term, let's-have-babies kind of way."

"Hmm. That's interesting."

"Hmm, that's interesting, why?"

"I merely meant that I find your opinion interesting."

Lorelai had made a face. "Kid, come on. This thing between me and Christopher, it's 99 percent sex-based. Take away the sex, and we've got about as much left between us as there was between Charles and Di."

"Okay."

"I mean, you know what my type is, and Christopher by any objective measure is not my type."

"Okay."

"Plus, the way things are, it's working out really well for us. I don't see why it has to become anything more."

"Okay."

"Are you going to stop saying 'okay' now?"

"Okay."

The conversation had died down, and they'd gone back to watching TV. But when Lorelai had gone to bed, she'd gone over the exchange again in her mind. Rory had meant well, but Rory and Lorelai just didn't process relationships the same way. Rory was a romantic who believed in love and attachments, and Lorelai didn't disagree that that was the ideal, but you couldn't always have the ideal. Plus, Rory had a doting, charming boyfriend, and girls with boyfriends always wanted everyone else to have a boyfriend.

Still, Rory's comments had made Lorelai think twice about the way her relationship with Christopher had been changing. She supposed it was natural for a relationship between two people to evolve, even one based primarily on physical attraction. It would probably be the same for anyone in her position. It didn't mean that she was on the verge of scribbling "Mrs. Haden" all over her legal pads and dreaming about holding hands and knitting baby booties.

Anyhow, at the present she had more pressing issues on her mind.

"I'm sorry, I cannot go into that meeting in two days with Ashley Benton and present this copy."

Lorelai slid the papers to the other side of her desk and stared sternly at Colin and Finn, who were sitting dumbly opposite her.

"But we did what you asked for," Colin protested. "You wanted a Cinderella theme with a storyline. That's what we gave you."

Lorelai took a moment to collect herself. It was always the same song and dance with these two, blaming everyone but themselves. If it weren't for Rory being on Logan's team, Lorelai really would have given them the boot months ago.

"Colin," she said as evenly as she could, "we're going for _Pretty Woman_ _after_ she goes shopping on Rodeo Drive, not before."

"Hey," Finn piped up seriously, "we never said she was a hooker."

Lorelai tapped the papers. "Fairy tale, guys. We're going for the fairy tale. Full-on Cinderella for the twenty-first century. Have a sing-along to 'Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo.' Watch Hilary Duff and Chad Michael Murray I.M. each other. Whatever it takes, I want new copy on my desk first thing tomorrow morning."

Colin and Finn's mouths dropped open.

"Tomorrow morning?" Finn asked, aghast.

"Lorelai, that's so unfair! We worked hard on this copy," Colin protested.

Lorelai resisted the urge to strangle him. Of the two, he was definitely the more irritating. Finn just seemed to walk around in a haze most of the time, but Colin was like the sand that got into your swimsuit and you couldn't quite get it all out no matter how hard you tried. "Uh-yeah, yeah, I'm sure you did, but it's not right for this campaign and I'm not going to walk in there blind with copy I haven't even had a chance to look at."

"But we worked hard on it!"

"Yeah, well, unfortunately that doesn't matter. It's not right for this campaign. I ran it by Mitchum last night, and he agreed. Welcome to the big leagues, boys. On my desk tomorrow morning."

Colin and Finn exchanged looks -- astonishment on Finn's face, resentment on Colin's -- and got up to leave. Lorelai would have bet twenty bucks that this was the first time in their lives that they had ever encountered a challenge to their meager efforts. If it hadn't meant more stress on her end trying to prepare for the presentation to Ashley, she would have enjoyed being the bearer of their bad news immensely.

"Is it just me, or is she not getting laid anymore?" Colin sniped a bit too loudly as they shuffled to the door, and Lorelai seriously contemplated hurling the paperweight on her desk at his head.

"I think I'd rather stick myself in the eye with a hot poker than torture myself with Chad Michael Murray's squinting," Finn muttered.

"Wait, how do you know he squints?" Colin asked, and then they were gone.

Lorelai sighed. She loved her job, but there were times when she wanted nothing more than to stay home and lie in bed eating honey mustard pretzels and watching _Ferris Bueller's Day Off_.

The phone on her desk rang, distracting her.

"Lorelai Gilmore," she answered.

"Guess what he wanted to know just now," said the voice on the other end of the line.

It was Rory, and Lorelai didn't need to ask to know that the _he_ in question was Logan.

Lorelai suppressed a smile, even though Rory wasn't in the same room. She had a very good idea of what Rory was about to say. Over the past couple of weeks, Logan had started consulting Rory for her opinion about very important things, like whether or not she knew how to tie a Windsor knot, or what her opinion of Coldplay was.

"He called me into his office to ask me which suit he liked better!" Rory exclaimed, sounding slightly unhinged.

"Well, what were your choices?"

"They were both black, they were both very expensive, and they were both made by Italian designers."

"Ooh, let me guess. Dolce and Gabbana and Armani."

There was a pause. "You're not helping."

"Oh, right, sorry. You know how excited I get about my Italians. It's all Donatella's fault, that blowzy minx. Proceed."

"So he was standing there, holding both of these suits up, and I couldn't tell the difference. It was like looking at suit versions of the Olsen twins."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let's not insult the nice Italian suits that way. And Mary-Kate and Ashley have not looked alike for years."

"Oh, so you're telling me you can tell them apart now?"

"Um…yes? One of them is slightly more emaciated and duck-lipped than the other?"

"Which one?"

"Okay, so you were saying."

"As I was saying, I couldn't tell the difference between the suits if you paid me, so I just hemmed and hawed and pretended to inspect, and finally I just mentally flipped a coin and pointed at one, and then he thanked me like I had some sort of divine insight into the souls of these suits, and he went on and on about how hard it is to find someone who really understands fine construction, and I just stood there and nodded like all my knowledge of sewing isn't from _Project Runway_."

"Are you just about done with that sentence?"

"Why does he do this?"

"He's a man, babe. That's what they're designed to do."

Rory sighed on the other end of the phone. "You know, present-day me looks back and laughs at past-me for wishing Logan would know her name."

"Don't worry, I'm sure his notoriously short attention span will kick in soon enough."

"It had better. So what's new with you?"

"Oh, the usual. Averting crisis and looking damn good while doing it."

"Colin and Finn again?"

"Colin and Finn always."

"So I should keep the mac and cheese warm for you tonight, then."

"God, that sounds good. I had to skip lunch because things are so crazy right now, and dinner seems like a no-go."

"Okay, one order of mac and cheese will be waiting for you when you get home."

"Aww, you're the best, but I'm going over to Christopher's right after work."

"Oh, right, the guy you have no feelings for."

"That's the one." Lorelai chuckled. "I'll see you later tonight, Kid."

************

That evening back in the apartment, the microwave beeped loudly, signaling the completed cooking of Rory's macaroni and cheese bowl. Rory opened the door and pulled out the steaming bowl with hot pads. She stirred it a few times with a fork and then returned the couch, where she was camped out for her and Lorelai's favorite makeover show.

Rory snuggled down into the couch and began to eat her dinner as the show began. Stacy and Clinton were watching secret footage of their latest makeover target and offering their usual pithy commentary on the sorry state of said target's clothing. A few minutes into the episode, Rory realized she had seen it before, and it wasn't one of her favorites. She hated it when the person getting the makeover acted like she was suffering a great hardship, like getting five thousand free dollars to spend on a new wardrobe was right up there with starvation and Ticketmaster fees.

With a sigh, she looked down at her own clothes -- in this case, pajamas. The apartment seemed unusually empty, and a wave of loneliness hit her.

Ever since the rose bouquet incident at work, Rory had been avoiding Dean. At first, he had called a lot, wanting to talk and find out what was wrong, but eventually he'd gotten the hint and backed off. She had felt kind of bad about it because Dean was honestly one of the nicest guys she'd ever known, but his intensity had set off every warning bell in her brain and she'd reacted accordingly.

Now, though, with a couple of weeks behind her and not having Lorelai around as much to keep her company, she was wondering if she'd overreacted a little. Just because she had some lingering dating issues didn't mean she had to project them onto someone else.

She got off the couch and marched into her bedroom, where she pulled out Dean's playing schedule. He wasn't supposed to go out of town for another few weeks. Taking a breath, she pulled out her phone and dialed his number.

He answered after the first ring. "Hello?"

"Dean, hi. It's Rory. I was wondering…do you want to go out tonight?"

************

Lorelai's stomach growled faintly as she rode over to Christopher's apartment. The day had been hectic, and true to her prediction, she hadn't had time for any meals. The Power Bar she'd had for a snack around three had long ago outlived its usefulness. For the first time since she and Christopher had started spending "quality time" together, she started wondering if it wouldn't hurt to break the "no food" rule they had established. She supposed that she could stop and have something to eat before she got to his apartment, but she was running late already. Christopher never made a big deal if she wasn't on time, but Lorelai had started to feel like every time she walked through the door, she was apologizing for being late.

The taxi pulled up to the curb in front of Christopher's building, and Lorelai's stomach rumbled again while she paid the driver. Willing it to be quiet, she trotted up the stairs and into the elevator.

When Christopher opened the door, Lorelai forgot about her empty stomach as a different kind of hunger came over her. Christopher was wearing a blue T-shirt that complimented his eyes and clung to his torso in just the right way, and Lorelai once again felt a powerful wave of attraction to him. Judging by the way he was looking at her, she could tell he was having a similar experience.

"You know, it's rude to stare," she said after a few seconds.

Christopher blinked and shook his head. "Sorry, your legs were mesmerizing me," he said. He reached out and pulled her inside. "You should never wear anything but skirts," he murmured into her ear before dipping his head for a kiss.

Lorelai let out a small sigh as she slid her arms around his neck and melted into his kiss. "You make that sound so dirty," she chided when they parted.

"Well, you know how I like it," he said, grinning as he pulled Lorelai closer.

"Oh, please, you don't even know the half of dirty," she said, grinning back at him.

Their lips met in a lengthy, passionate kiss, and Lorelai could feel the blood start to flow faster through her body. She moved one hand to his head, sliding her fingers into his hair, while his hands began to roam over her back.

Lorelai was a little breathless when they broke the kiss, and they shared a giddy giggle. Christopher ducked his head for another kiss, but Lorelai pressed a finger to his lips. "Could you let me get out of these heels first?" she asked, drawing her finger down so it tugged a little on his lower lip.

Silently, but with heat in his eyes, Christopher released her.

Lorelai gave him a saucy look and walked away from him, giving him a glance over the shoulder as she slipped out of her stilettos. Before she had a chance to turn around, she felt Christopher's arms slip around her waist. He began to nuzzle her neck, and she leaned back into him, enjoying his touch. "Wow, you're not wasting any time tonight," she commented, tilting her head to give him access to her neck.

Christopher pressed a soft kiss to the nape. "Is that a problem for you?"

"Well, it's just that lately we've been doing other things first." Lorelai let out a low hiss as Christopher's mouth moved to the side of her neck and found a sensitive spot.

"We have?"

Lorelai tried to focus on a spot on the wall as Christopher began to leave a trail of warm kisses down her neck. "You know, like you showing me your latest game, or -- mmmh," she moaned softly as Christopher wet a spot with his tongue, then scraped his teeth over the delicate skin.

"You were saying?"

"Or…or we would -- we…" Lorelai trailed off as he again wet her skin and bit down lightly. "We would talk. About, you know, stuff."

"Well, we could stop this right now and talk if you wanted to," Christopher said, sliding his hands upward until they covered both of her breasts. He gave them a gentle squeeze. "Do you want to stop?"

Lorelai breathed heavily as his hands continued to caress her in just the right way, suggesting to her imagination the things he had in mind. "We can talk later," she said, giving in to the sensations he was creating.

He chuckled and began to suck lightly on her neck as his fingers moved to unbutton her blouse, and Lorelai felt the heat inside her continue to grow.

When all the buttons were undone, he helped her slip out of the blouse, then pushed her bra straps down. He began to press kisses to her shoulder as his hands returned to her breasts.

"We should do this more often," Lorelai breathed as Christopher slid one hand beneath the fabric of her bra and grazed her nipple with his fingertips.

"Can you wait a week?"

"What? I just said more often."

"Well, I'm going to be in Seattle for a week. I leave tomorrow morning."

His words immediately pulled Lorelai out of the moment. "You are?" she asked, pulling away slightly.

"Yeah. It's a conference for work."

"Oh." Lorelai wondered why he hadn't mentioned it before, but then she remembered that there was no reason why he should have; it wasn't like they had any commitments to each other. Still, she didn't like the idea of him being gone for a week.

Christopher seemed to sense her change of mood, because he turned her toward him and pulled her close. "I'll be back before you even realize it. You won't even have a chance to miss me."

Lorelai collected herself. "Oh, so you think I'm going to miss you?" she asked, a mischievous glint in her eye.

He gave her a cocky look. "Well, come on."

"Well, I'll miss certain parts of you," she returned playfully.

Christopher laughed and leaned forward, pressing a warm kiss to her lips. That kiss led to a more passionate kiss, and soon they were a mess of interlocking tongues and roving hands as they moved toward the bedroom.

Lorelai fell back on the bed, and Christopher pulled off his shirt before joining her. He covered her body with his, and they resumed their kissing, tracing each other's lips with their tongues and delving more deeply into each other's mouths.

Lorelai moaned softly as the familiar heat began to pool within her. She ran her hands over his back and chest, while Christopher's mouth began to move down her neck to her collarbone and then to the valley between her breasts. She shifted with pleasure beneath him, and he slid his hand down her thigh and underneath the hem of her skirt. His palm slowly inched upward, and Lorelai breathed hard with anticipation, letting her eyes close. His fingers crept higher, moving closer to where she wanted his touch…she could almost feel it….

And then the most ridiculous, drawn-out gurgling noise erupted loudly from her stomach. It lasted so long that it almost sounded like a little song.

Lorelai's eyes flew open, and Christopher immediately stilled.

"Was…was that you?" he asked, pulling back to look at her.

Lorelai felt her cheeks warming rapidly. "Um, maybe?"

"Lorelai…"

She quickly put her hand to his cheek. "Come on, let's not lose this," she said, lifting her head to kiss him.

As if on cue, a second gurgle erupted that was just as crazy.

Christopher chuckled, shaking his head. "Come on, Lorelai, what's going on?"

A third gurgle interrupted, this time with a funny growl attached to the end, and Lorelai weakly offered, "Nothing?" Why, oh why, had her stomach chosen this moment to reassert its emptiness?

Christopher moved off to the side and looked at her. "You sound like there's a drunk grizzly bear trapped inside you."

Lorelai groaned in frustration as her stomach made another, smaller rumble, and she covered her face with her hands. "I didn't get a chance to eat before I came over," she confessed. "And…I kind of haven't eaten much all day."

Christopher raised an eyebrow. "And you're still standing?" He shook his head in disbelief and got off the bed. "All right, that's it," he said, extending a hand to Lorelai.

Lorelai's mouth dropped open. "That's it?" she repeated, a kind of dread coursing through her. The "no food" rule quickly flashed through her mind, and she realized that it was about to spell the end of the evening's activities. And Christopher was not going to be in town for a week! This was not how she had anticipated the evening going.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Christopher gave her a confused look. "It's just that as cute as I think your gurgling stomach is, I'm not having sex with you when you're clearly starving, and especially not when your stomach is playing 'Dueling Banjos.'" He smiled at her and held out his hand again. "Come on, we're getting you fed."

She hesitated. "But -- but what about the rules?"

He gently took her hands in his. "I think we can make an exception just this once. There's a great little Chinese place just a block away. We can be there and back within twenty minutes. It'll be like it never happened, except you'll no longer be on the runway model diet. Well, the runway model diet minus the cigarettes and heroin."

He was rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles, and Lorelai could feel her hesitation melting away.

"Come on," he cajoled, "it's a 'break glass in case of emergency' situation. I thought you were a big rule-breaker back in the day. Don't tell me you've completely reformed."

He was giving her such a look, the kind of look she had such a weakness for, and her stomach rumbled again. With a sheepish sigh, she let Christopher pull her up off the bed, and she leaned against him as he put his arm around her shoulders.

************

Rory felt slightly self-conscious as she walked into the trendy eatery where she and Dean had agreed to meet. Usually Rory preferred coffee shops and cafes, but for some reason she had agreed when Dean suggested this place.

Part of the reason for her self-consciousness was the number of couples clearly on dates at the restaurant. As she glanced around, she saw one couple making out, one couple feeding each other, and several others just acting couple-y.

The other reason for her self-consciousness was her outfit. At the time she put on the flirty little dress, she'd thought she looked cute, but now she wondered if it would give Dean the wrong impression. She didn't want Dean to think she was more eager than she actually was.

Rory scanned the restaurant but didn't see Dean. The place was starting to fill up, so she approached the hostess to ask for a table.

The hostess led her to a narrow booth along the wall, and within minute, a waitress came to take a drink order. Not feeling very adventurous, Rory ordered a Coke. She glanced around the restaurant again, then pulled out her phone to see if she'd gotten any messages.

She hadn't.

She drummed her fingers on the table until the waitress came back with her drink. She took a sip, then played with the straw. As the minutes ticked by, she became restless, feeling like the watched pot that was never going to boil. Finally, her phone began to ring, and she pounced on it.

It was Dean. "Rory, I'm stuck in traffic. I'm going to be a little late. Are you there already?"

"Yeah, I am," Rory said, disappointed to hear that she would be sitting alone for a while longer. "I'm already at a table."

"Damn. You don't mind waiting, do you?"

"Nope, I've got a drink. I'm good," she reassured him.

"I will be there as quickly as possible," Dean promised. "I can't wait to see you."

"I..." The words _can't wait to see you, too_ were on the tip of Rory's tongue, but for some reason, they wouldn't budge beyond. "I'll see you when you get here."

Rory clicked off her phone and sighed. She wished she had a book to help her pass the time. Normally she would just call Lorelai to kill time, but Lorelai was off having…well, a much better time than Rory was currently having.

There was a slight commotion at the door, and Rory looked up to see Logan, Colin, and Finn entering. For once, no girls were with them, and Rory noticed that Logan was carrying a few folders. Logan spoke to the hostess, and she pointed to a table that was in the same area as Rory's booth. When Logan looked over to the table, he made eye contact with Rory. For a second, he didn't seem to recognize her, but then his eyes lit up, and he turned back to the hostess and nodded enthusiastically.

Embarrassed that she'd been caught staring, Rory quickly turned away and started playing with the wrapper to her straw, twisting and shredding it as she recalled her rant to Lorelai from earlier in the day. She really could do without seeing any more of Logan for the time being, but the reason wasn't what she had led Lorelai to believe.

The truth was that against her better judgment, she'd started finding Logan intriguing. Perhaps it was her inquisitive nature, but part of her really wanted to get to the bottom of Logan's incomprehensibility. Sometimes it seemed to her like there were two Logans -- the carefree playboy who partied his way around Manhattan, and the floundering junior executive that she saw at work. And then, sometimes, there was a third Logan, the one who asked her strange questions in his office and looked at her with…she didn't know what, but something in those brown eyes that made her just wonder more about him.

She hated herself for thinking about him. When she had dated Jess, they'd spent many an occasion mocking guys like Logan, guys born with silver spoons in their mouths and had the world handed to them on a platter. Guys like that, they'd said, had no depth because they didn't need any. Yet here she was, dreaming that there was more to Logan than met the eye. What was wrong with her?

Furthermore, thinking about Logan made Rory feel guilty. Objectively, Logan was very good-looking, and she'd never seen a young man who dressed as well as he did, both in and out of the office. But that just showed how shallow he was, she reminded herself. And she had Dean, good, loyal, dependable Dean, who was also very nice-looking and was tall and athletic. To Dean she was everything; to Logan she was just another employee, and if he did think of her as a female, she was just one in a sea of women in his life. Logan's reputation was well-known, and despite that, she knew that at least half the secretaries in the office were already under his spell, and for the rest he would only have to say "please." And that was just the office. It was foolishness to waste time thinking about Logan, and Rory really didn't want to be a fool.

The hostess led Logan, Colin, and Finn over to the designated table, and Colin and Finn sat down. To Rory's dismay, however, Logan continued walking until he was standing next to her booth.

"Logan," Rory said, unable to ignore him without seeming rude.

"Rory Leigh, I wasn't expecting to see you here," Logan said in that casual, friendly tone that only he could pull off without sounding insincere.

"Likewise," Rory said as nicely as she could.

He nodded at the empty seat across from her. "Are you here by yourself? You should join us."

"Oh, no, I couldn't," Rory said, shaking her head while trying to quell the little ripple that went through her stomach. "I'm sure you have plans for a bunch of fun, and I wouldn't want to ruin that."

Logan looked surprised. "Why would you think you're not fun enough? I think you'd be plenty of fun to hang out with."

"Well, you could be wrong. I could be really boring," Rory countered, feeling the ripple return.

"I don't know, I think I'm a pretty good judge of character."

"Well, I'm not really a party person," Rory informed him, glad to be able to refute him.

Logan turned his head toward Colin and Finn, who were busy poring over whatever was in the folders, and turned back to Rory. "Does that look like a party to you?"

Rory didn't quite know what to say. Why did he always seem to turn left when she expected him to turn right?

"It's all because of Lorelai, you know," Logan said. "They have to redo their copy for tomorrow, so I said I'd help them out a little."

Rory raised her eyebrows. "You're going to help them?"

Logan shrugged. "They're my buddies. It's what we do. They've saved my ass before; I figure I can try to save theirs. Emphasis on try, of course." He flashed her a wry grin which Rory knew she was certainly not the first recipient of. "Come on, I never get a chance to talk to you."

Rory blinked. Instantly her exasperation from the morning returned. Never had a chance to talk to her? Hardly! If he wanted to strike up a real conversation with her, maybe he could stop asking her to pick between identical suits -- and maybe he could decide which Logan he really was while he was at it. "I'm sorry, Logan," she said, stiffness creeping into her voice, "but I'm actually meeting Dean here for a date. He should be here any minute."

"Oh, that's great," Logan said without skipping a beat. "I'm glad things are going well for you. Have a great time, he's a good guy." Logan took a step back, and despite the lightness in his voice, Rory thought he seemed slightly deflated.

"Thanks. He is," Rory said, nodding.

Logan returned to his seat and began to talk with Colin and Finn. Rory glanced over at them and, though she told herself she didn't care, strained to hear what they were saying.

"What did you say the theme was again?" Logan asked.

"Cinderella," Colin said. "She wants to turn Ashley Benton into Cinderella."

"But not a hooker," Finn interjected.

"Wow, that's a tall order," Logan said. He paused, and when Rory sneaked another look, she saw that he was scribbling some things down on a legal pad. "What do you think, sleek limo for a pumpkin, paparazzi for dazzled ball-goers, killer dress."

"Wow," Colin said. "How do you do that?"

"Well, you do know the story, right?"

"I know the story." Colin sounded miffed that Logan even asked.

"Okay, now we just need a narrative," Logan said.

Rory continued to listen in on their conversation, and the more she listened, the more shocked she became. Logan was helping them. He was actually helping them. Logan, who consistently looked lost at work, was helping his friends, and with some great ideas, too. He had an ear for language and an instinct for a hook. So where did this Logan come from, and where had he been hiding? And how did he fit in with all of the other Logans?

She sneaked another look at him. He looked engaged for once. Colin and Finn seemed to hang on his every word, and Rory began to wonder if it all had to do with expectations. Everyone knew that Mitchum didn't think much of Logan, and it occasionally trickled through the office gossip that Mitchum was just as interested in seeing Logan fail as he was in seeing him succeed. Even among their team, she knew that most of the group thought of him as a playboy, not a leader, and some of them resented him for leapfrogging over them with a fraction of the experience. Maybe…maybe he just needed someone who believed in him. It seemed ridiculous, but Rory couldn't help but wonder. Once again, she felt like her picture of him had been distorted by a new detail in the frame.

"Hey, you."

Rory was startled from her reverie by Dean, who had just arrived. She stood up to embrace him, turning her cheek to him for a kiss. "I'm glad you made it."

"Me, too. The traffic was something else," Dean said, shaking his head.

They sat down, and Dean soaked in Rory with his eyes. "You look amazing, I mean…wow."

"Thanks," Rory said, but the little thrill she expected never came. Without thinking, she glanced over quickly at Logan.

Dean followed her eye line and frowned when he saw Logan, Colin, and Finn. "Those jerks are here?" he asked. "You should have told me. We could have gone somewhere else."

"Sorry, they got here after I did," Rory said, feeling slightly annoyed at Dean's hostility. Sure, Logan and his friends were no princes, but what had they ever done to Dean?

"If you want to leave, we can leave."

"No, it's okay."

Dean cast a disgusted look at Logan. "That guy, he thinks he owns the world."

"Dean, let's just enjoy this," Rory said, putting her hand over his. "I haven't seen you in a while, and I really want to focus on us. Logan's my boss, that's all. He's not the one I'm here with tonight."

Dean looked contrite. "You're right, I'm sorry. It's just…I can't forget the way he acted toward you at the picnic."

Rory frowned. "What?"

"Nothing," Dean said, shaking his head. "I'm here with you, and that's all that matters." He reached for the menu. "What's good here?"

"That's a very good question," Rory said, glad to have gotten Dean's mind onto other things, but while Dean was reading the entrée choices, she couldn't stop herself from stealing another glance at Logan.

************

There was a slight breeze in the evening air as Lorelai and Christopher strolled back to his apartment.

True to Christopher's word, the Chinese food place was just a block away. From the enthusiastic greeting Christopher received from the lively owner, Lorelai guessed that he was a regular at the place. In fact, the owner had actually been so happy to see Christopher that he'd let Lorelai eat for free. Lorelai's food had come out in record time, piping hot and very tasty, and Lorelai had wolfed it down.

Christopher shook his head in amazement at her. "I have never seen anyone inhale a meal quite like that."

Lorelai was still carrying a carton that had a few mushrooms left in the bottom. She picked out a mushroom with a pair of chopsticks and popped it into her mouth. "Well, when you've got a drunk grizzly bear in your stomach, you do what's necessary," she said. She pulled out the last mushroom and then tossed the carton into the nearest garbage can on the sidewalk.

"You feel better now?"

"Much better. Much quieter. Well, at least my stomach is."

Christopher chuckled. "Good."

They walked in silence for a few moments, just enjoying the night air.

"So what are you going to do at this conference?" Lorelai asked, her thoughts drifting back to the news that Christopher was going to be gone.

Christopher shrugged. "Oh, you know, the usual. We set up a booth and do demos for prospective buyers. We show them what the game is like and tell them how awesome it's going to be. And when we do it right, people believe us and we get their money. It's worked out pretty well so far."

"Ah, so you're a world class swindler."

"The classiest of world class. This ain't a two-bit operation, sweetheart."

"I'm glad you like your job."

"Me, too. I spent a lot of time after high school and in my twenties trying to figure out what I wanted to do in life, and I made a lot of mistakes in the process. Of course, my parents weren't all that thrilled when I announced to them that I wanted to devote my life to the very thing that was keeping me from finding a 'real job,' but they've come around, sort of. They like the part where I can support myself. That was kind of a problem before."

"You know, I don't know if my parents like that I'm financially independent. It means they can't control me like they want to. I think my mom always wanted me to marry a blueblood and have a bunch of high society babies. She was hopeful when I moved to New York, but then I ended up dating Luke for five years."

"He runs the diner in your hometown, right?"

"Yeah. If I get high cholesterol later in life, I'm totally blaming him for it."

Christopher laughed. "Sounds like a plan."

They arrived at Christopher's building, and Christopher fished his keys out of his pocket. As Lorelai waited, the breeze picked up from behind, blowing her hair into her face. It stuck between her lips, and she ran her fingers through it to try to get it out of the way.

Christopher saw what she was doing and smiled in amusement. "Hey, you missed a few," he said.

"I know," she said, frowning and pawing her fingers at her face.

He watched her struggle for a few seconds and then said, "Here, let me."

She stilled, and he reached out and smoothed away the last few strands that she couldn't seem to find. He tucked the hairs behind her ears; then, to her surprise, he gently stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers.

"There you go," he said softly.

For the first time with Christopher, Lorelai didn't know what to say. Her cheek burned from where he had touched it, and an unexpected quiver went through her stomach.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked.

Lorelai blinked. "What wasn't?"

"Getting food. Do you feel like the sanctity of our unholy union has been destroyed by moo goo gai pan?"

"Oh, right, that," Lorelai said, wondering why she had ever thought that he was talking about anything else. "No, I think we're okay."

"Good."

"Not that we're striking down the rule or anything."

"I wouldn't dream of it." Christopher grinned. "So what do you say we go burn some calories?"

"Well, you know we're going to have to wait a half an hour."

"We are?"

"The swimming rule."

"How is what we're doing anything like swimming?"

"I have to let the food digest before any vigorous activity. I don't want to puke all over you."

"Thank you for that wonderful image."

"Although, I can think of a few non-vigorous ways to pass the time."

"Is that right? Non-vigorous?"

"So non-vigorous it'll blow your mind."

"Well, if it's that non-vigorous, sign me up."

"Oh, I intend to."


	7. Look Into My Eyes, You Might Enjoy It

**CHAPTER 7 - LOOK INTO MY EYES, YOU MIGHT ENJOY IT**

July had definitely come to Manhattan, because the midday heat radiated up from the sidewalk like a convection oven. Lorelai moved quickly, trying to stay as much as she could in the slivers of shade offered by the overhangs of some of the buildings. Her heels clicked against the concrete as she navigated the sea of people who all seemed to be moving either very slowly or not at all. When a red light forced her to stop, she wiped a trickle of sweat from her brow. She was thankful she was close to her destination; what qualified as a quick jaunt in the cool of the morning was a sweltering trek in the middle of the day. She was definitely going to take a cab back to the office. It might not be faster, but at least she wouldn't melt.

The walk sign lit up, and Lorelai crossed the street. A half block later, she opened the door to a familiar store and basked in the cool blast of air that greeted her.

The interior of the store was decorated like a girly wonderland, with endless displays of perfumes and lotions, lingerie, and sleepwear stretching out like a pastel smorgasbord. Lorelai's mood immediately lifted. It had been far too long since she'd treated herself to new lingerie, and her eyes greedily took in all of the new styles. Daring lace, flirty ruffles, romantic ribbons…she didn't know where to start.

The sounds of 50 Cent began to blare from her phone, and Lorelai quickly answered it. "Hey, Shorty," she said into the receiver.

"You still have 'In Da Club' assigned to my number, don't you?" came Rory's voice.

"On your birthday, we are definitely drinking Bacardi. I want you to know that. Also, uh, I don't really know how to change ringtones, so for the time being, you have no choice in the matter."

"I still can't believe you did that. In the age of Kanye, there's just no excuse."

"Hey, 'In Da Club' is a modern classic. Fifty years from now they'll be playing _Fitty_ at weddings and bar mitzvahs."

"They play the Village People at weddings and bar mitzvahs. That means nothing."

"You should be grateful for your ringtone. You know how many different ringtones are out there? I could have assigned you that Paula Cole song from _Dawson's Creek_."

"You wouldn't have dared."

"I don't know, I could have. I could have had a moment of wild unpredictability and forever associated you withPacey, Joey, and unshaved pits."

"That's an empty threat and you know it. I believe we have definitely entered the spin zone."

"Bill O'Reilly is crying into his coffee right now."

"So, getting back to the reason I actually called: where are you? I called your desk, and you weren't in."

Lorelai moved over to a display of gauzy nighties. "Uh…I'm out."

"Out where?"

"Oh, you know, out. Out as in not in."

"Yes, we've established you're not in your office. That leaves a lot of places where you could be out. Help me narrow it down, Gilmore."

"Uh, I could possibly be looking at some La Perla right now."

"Lorelai! You're playing hooky from work?"

"It's not hooky. It's more like a break. An extended break."

"A break that just happened to turn into hooky?"

"Hey, it's not hooky if you have every intention of returning. I just had to get out for a while because Colin and Finn are even more insufferable now that the copy they didn't write has made such a splash with Mitchum. I am out for their own good. I'm doing them and the rest of the world a favor by being out."

"They don't know you know, do they?" Rory asked.

"Of course they don't know I know. Knowing that I know would require them to have some self-awareness, which I know they don't possess."

"I blame our reality TV-obsessed, instant gratification-hungry culture."

"I still can't believe Logan wrote that copy. Are you sure that wasn't a robot in that restaurant? Maybe you saw a robot."

"Mmm, as far as I could tell, it was not a robot. My robot detecting skills have yet to be wrong, mind you."

"Damn. There goes my Cylon theory."

"So, La Perla. I think I know what _that_ means."

"Yeah, it means a great sale that I can't pass up," Lorelai said lightly. Beneath Rory's teasing tone, she could detect a more serious probe, one that she wasn't quite ready to confront. "I mean, in these economic times, it would be fiscally irresponsible of me to pass it up, and who am I to practice fiscal irresponsibility when Congress is already doing a bang-up job of that? I'm just the little person in this scenario."

"So you're really just shopping because of the sale."

"Absolutely."

"And that's the only reason. Despite your dresser drawer overflowing with underwear it would take you half a year to go through once."

"There's nothing wrong with securing some backup. What if we had to escape from our apartment really fast, and all I could bring was what I could grab in thirty seconds? At least I could reach into my dresser and be assured that I would have clean underwear at my disposal."

"I -- hold on." Lorelai heard Rory muffle her phone. A moment later, she returned. "Gilmore, I've gotta go. Logan just called me on the office line. It seems he needs my expertise on some copy."

"Whoa, copy? Like work-related copy?"

"All indications point in that direction."

"Wow, work-related copy. You're moving up in the world. Pretty soon people are going to be asking _you_ if you want fries with that."

"Whoop-de-doo."

"Hey, I think that merits a little more enthusiasm."

"Uh, yippee?"

"That's more like it. Okay, I'll talk to you later. And I want details. Big, fat, juicy details."

"I can't promise you big, fat, or juicy, but I will supply details."

"I'm counting on it."

"Okay, I've gotta go. Bye."

"Bye."

Lorelai breathed a small sigh of relief as she put her phone back in her purse. Logan's interruption had come at a very welcome time. Rory had developed an aggravating habit of making pointed yet veiled comments about the status of Lorelai's relationship with Christopher. Not that long ago, Lorelai had been able to laugh off any insinuations that she was more attached to Christopher than she thought she was. Lately, though, she wasn't quite as sure.

He had only been gone a few days, but she had been noticing his absence far more than she had expected. As much fun as it was at night to roll her eyes with Rory at the antics of Bret Michaels and the shameless hussies on his bus, it wasn't nearly as much fun as tangling beneath the sheets with Christopher, hearing his laugh and feeling the warmth of his body. Even her days seemed blander, when her phone never played the ringtone he had helped her assign to his number.

On the night of the Chinese food, while she and Christopher had been lying in bed debating whether Toni Basil or Soft Cell were the bigger one hit wonders, she had mentioned to him that she'd gotten a new phone and wanted to assign different ringtones to numbers but had no idea how. He had laughed and told her he'd do it for her, just tell him what songs she wanted. Ten minutes later, her phone was programmed to play "In Da Club" for Rory, the Imperial March from _Star Wars_ for Emily, and "Bust a Move" for himself.

She'd been impressed and thanked him with a kiss and a promise that she would let him touch her boob the next time.

He had laughed, then pulled out his own phone and said, "What do you want your ringtone to be?"

After ten minutes of deliberations, she'd finally settled on "Manic Monday" because the Bangles had been her favorite band as a teenager.

"'Manic Monday' it is," Christopher had said, pressing a few buttons.

He had just set his phone down when it began to play "Manic Monday." He looked from his phone to Lorelai, who was holding her phone up to her ear and grinning.

Grinning back, Christopher answered his phone. "Why, Lorelai Gilmore, what a surprise."

"You knew it was me?" she'd asked, feigning surprise.

"Why, yes, I knew right away from your customized ringtone."

"That is just astounding. Whatever will those technological wizards think of next? Ooh, I know! How to make the line for the ladies' room shrink. You'd think someone would have solved this serious design flaw by now, but --"

She hadn't been able to finish her sentence, though, because Christopher had interrupted her with an unexpected kiss. The kiss had been long, but instead of the hunger she was used to, there had been almost a kind of longing in it. When he pulled away, his gaze lingered on her face. Her eyes questioned him, and he'd said, "It's gonna be a long week." Her heart had fluttered in the strangest way, but when she looked at him again, mischief was once again dancing in his eyes. "For you, I mean. Just wanted to remind you of what you'll be missing."

She had hit him with a pillow and protested heartily, but in retrospect, she secretly wondered if she had made slightly too big a deal of not missing him. She just hadn't expected to notice his absence so much. There were no text messages to look forward to, arranging their next get-together; no brief confirmation calls where she could hear his voice. Just nothing.

She knew she shouldn't expect to hear from him. She didn't expect to hear from him. For the most part, they had both stuck to the rules, which was probably why their arrangement was working out so well. She didn't see any reason that that should change. She just hadn't expected it to become part of her life the way it had, that was all, never mind that earlier that day, she'd wasted twenty minutes reading old text messages from Christopher and giggling at the wry little jokes he liked to include, made funnier by his typically spotty text spelling.

_Please, you survived a six-month dry spell,_ she reminded herself, but the pep talk didn't fully chase away her disgruntled feelings.

She wandered over toward a table loaded with a small mountain of lace panties. Rory was right; she had too many pairs of underwear already, but she could never resist buying new ones. A ruffled pair of panties near the edge of the table caught her eye. She went over and picked them up, biting her lower lip as she considered them. They were very sexy, much sexier than what she normally wore….

The Imperial March from _Star Wars_ started blaring out of her purse, and Lorelai groaned. She fished out her phone and saw that the caller ID was indeed correct. "Hi, Mom," she said into the receiver.

"Lorelai, I'm going to be in the city tomorrow, and I've already made lunch reservations for us at one o'clock. It's at a place near your job, so you don't have to worry about being gone too long."

"Uh, okay. Thanks for checking to see if my schedule is open."

"Is there a problem? Is there a reason you can't use your lunch hour to spend with your mother whom you don't see that often?"

Lorelai pressed her lips together. She could tell her mother was in one of her moods, and Lorelai really didn't want to get into things with her right now. Not on her break. Not while she was surrounded by garter belts and glitter body lotion. "No, not at all. There's nothing else I'd rather do. Given the choice between this and capturing the leprechaun who leaves the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, I would definitely choose this."

Emily paused just long enough to communicate her irritation with Lorelai's quip. "I don't appreciate your sarcasm, Lorelai. Would it kill you not to make a joke out of everything for even a minute?"

"I don't know, let's find out…oh, sorry. I'm serious now. Seriously."

"_Lorelai_…"

"What are you doing in New York, Mom? And no, that wasn't sarcasm."

"I'm coming to do some shopping. The shops in Hartford seem to forget that as we women age, we still want to remain fashionable. If I wanted to wear a shapeless tent, I'd go to the North Face and buy one."

Emily continued her litany of reasons Hartford shopping had become unacceptable, and Lorelai halfway listened. As she stood with her phone pressed to her ear, her gaze returned to the pair of panties she'd been looking at. Impulsively, she reached out and picked up a pair in her size.

************

Rory smiled to herself as she slung her purse over her shoulder and walked to the elevator. Lorelai had gone, more than a little reluctantly, to lunch with her mother, so instead of eating alone at Betty's, Rory had decided to slip away to her favorite bookstore and indulge in some much-missed browsing. Few things in life made her happier than being able to immerse herself in a bookstore, lost in the magic of words on pages, spinning imaginary worlds in her head.

Several seconds later, the elevator deposited her on the ground floor, and she blinked as she stepped into the summer sunlight. She trotted off in the direction of the bookstore, and within minutes, she found herself at the well-worn door with the brass knob.

Stepping inside, she took a deep breath and inhaled the aroma of millions of printed pages. How could other women prefer the scent of roses or perfume? In Rory's opinion, the smell of books was one of the most heavenly fragrances on earth.

She quickly headed for her favorite corner and picked up a few of the titles she'd been thinking about lately. One was all the rage on fiction blogs and Rory wanted to see what all the fuss was about; one was the inspirational memoir of an Iraqi woman; and one was the trashy romance novel that Rory was too embarrassed to buy because of her stance against insipid romance novels, but one day on a whim she'd picked up the first book in the series, gotten sucked in, and now she had to find out what happened to the youngest brother in his quest for love with a generously-bosomed but strong-willed woman named Martine.

She stopped by the store's small café and ordered a coffee (extra strong) and a hot sandwich, then settled herself at her favorite table where the lunchtime light streamed through the window in just the right way so as to illuminate but not glare off the page.

She had just formed an opinion about the novel the blogs had been raving over (not nearly worth all the hype, and that was being generous), when the bell above the door jangled. Rory automatically looked up to see who was entering, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw that it was Logan Huntzberger.

After she got over her shock at seeing him in the last place she would expect, she realized that he was alone. Normally he was flanked by Colin and Finn like a Roman emperor with his Praetorian guards, or dripping with beautiful women, or if in his office, shadowed by artwork from previous successful campaigns, all bearing down on him with leaden expectation. Seeing him by himself, completely unencumbered, was a little like catching a glimpse of an elusive mythical creature.

As usual, his looks, clothing, and carriage drew the attention of others. Rory watched as several of the other people browsing the aisles turned and stared at him as he strode past them to one of the shelves near the back of the store. Seemingly oblivious to the attention, he slowly worked his way down the bookcase, occasionally pulling a book out, reading the back cover, and flipping through the pages before putting it back.

Rory's eyebrows knit together. It was just like Logan to do something like this. Ever since she'd seen him helping Colin and Finn with their copy, her curiosity about him had grown exponentially. The day before, she'd been so excited about being called to his office to look over copy, though she'd tried to hide it from Lorelai. But when she had gone to his office, he'd just wanted her to proofread someone else's work. It had taken her all of one minute to mark up the errors, and she'd been a little short with him when he'd tried to make some small talk. He continually subverted her expectations at every turn, and it was fraying the last of her patience.

The longer she watched Logan, the more it occurred to her that she should go up to him and make him talk to her…make him spill his secrets. She would never have another chance like now, when he was completely unprotected by his friends, women, or the office setting where he was clearly the boss and she was clearly his subordinate. Here in the bookstore, they could be equals.

Emboldened by caffeine and curiosity, she stood up and marched in his direction. She strode up to the other side of the bookcase where he was standing, and cleared her throat.

The noise got his attention, and he looked up. When he saw that it was Rory standing opposite him, his eyes took on an interested gleam that made her throat feel dry.

"Hi," she said, her tone daring him to carry the conversation.

"Hello," he replied easily, flashing the grin that had made quick work of many a socialite. "Fancy meeting you here."

Rory stood her ground. "Actually, I was thinking the same thing."

For a moment, Logan looked pleasantly surprised. Then a wry, more calculated look flashed in his eyes. "Oh, I get it," he said knowingly. "You think the boss's son doesn't read."

That was exactly what Rory had been thinking, but she did her best to counter and deflect his assumption. "Well, you've never asked me about books before," she returned primly.

He grinned, accepting her subtle jab. "Okay, let's change that right now. I'm going out of town for the weekend and am trying to find something for the plane. What do you think?" He held up two books.

Rory looked from one to the other. What she saw almost made her weep. In one hand was a John Grisham novel, and in the other was a Nicholas Sparks.

"Uh, how about neither?" she suggested.

"You think I should read some Tolstoy instead?"

"I didn't say Tolstoy."

"But just as an example. Tolstoy, Dickens, the guy who wrote _Les Misérables_ --"

"Victor Hugo."

"That guy; whatever. I had to read Tolstoy in college, and I don't care what people say, it was long and boring and painful, and for a plane ride, I'd like for my brain not to hurt when we land." He paused, and there was a glint in his eye. "You seem ready to defend the merits of Tolstoy."

"Well, if you don't mind my saying so, he was certainly more of a writer than either of these two hacks can ever hope to be," Rory said, gesturing at the books.

"Hacks? You're calling these two multi-million-selling writers hacks?"

"Sales have nothing to do with how well a person can write," Rory pointed out, feeling her heart rate accelerate. Being challenged on her strong opinions about books was always a surefire way to get her blood pumping. "Countless authors have made millions catering to the lowest common denominator. That doesn't mean that there's any art in what they write."

"Well, then, what's your definition of art? Because -- and I freely admit this -- _The Notebook_ made me cry. Tolstoy did not make me cry."

"You think crying makes something art?" Rory asked, incredulous.

"No, I mean crying means it touched something inside of me. It resonated. If that's not the definition of art, that something contained within those words transcended the ink and paper used to print them, and caused an emotional response that logically ink on paper should not necessarily cause, then I defy you to come up with a better explanation of what art is."

Rory felt her blood churning inside her head. In a way, she could see Logan's point, but something stubborn inside her refused to let him have the last word. "Well, the definition of art is not nearly that subjective. Art can be measured. The ability to craft beautiful pictures out of words is art. The ability to structure a novel so perfectly that every plot element is unexpected yet totally inevitable is art. There _are_ objective standards that experts around the world can agree on. Just because you don't cry at something doesn't make it _not_ art, just like crying at something doesn't _make_ it art."

"So how many standards does something have to meet before you'll consider it art?"

"Well, there's no hard and fast rule, but something should generally conform to artistic standards for it to be considered art."

"What if it's one standard? It meets one standard. Does that make it art?"

"It could. If that one standard it meets is powerful enough, I think it could."

"So even if you think the rest of it is bunk, that one standard could be enough to convince you."

"I think so."

"Even if you hate everything else about it."

"I think I can at least appreciate when something has artistic value, even if it's not my cup of tea."

"So then, by your own reasoning, you should be able to appreciate the merits of _The Notebook_, even though it's generally beneath your enlightened definition of art."

"_The Notebook_ has no artistic merits. It doesn't even meet one standard."

"In your book."

"In anyone's book."

"So then what made me cry?"

Rory suddenly noticed that they were both leaning forward over the bookcase, their faces closer than any previous conversation had ever brought them. She could see the tiny freckles on the bridge of Logan's nose…how liquid brown his eyes really were…the fancy stitching on the collar of his shirt. His nearness set her heart skittering rapidly inside her ribcage. "I -- I don't know," she stammered, suddenly at a loss for words.

Logan studied her for a slow moment. "You're very passionate," he said quietly, as though he had just unearthed a valuable secret. The way he spoke made Rory feel exposed, vulnerable; her cheeks burned hotly, but she couldn't pull away. His eyes were like a magnet, holding her captive, draining her of any desire to escape.

The jangling of the bell over the door dashed the moment. Logan immediately looked away, and Rory followed his gaze to see a stunning, statuesque blonde walking toward them. Her heart plummeted as she realized the girl was yet another girlfriend passing through Logan's constantly revolving door.

"Peyton," Logan said, smiling at the blonde. "You made it."

"No thanks to you, telling those people at Balenciaga to throw bag after bag at me. You know my weak points," Peyton said accusingly, though she looked anything but upset. Rory could only stare at Peyton, marveling that someone's hair could be that perfect in real life.

"That I do, very well," Logan said suggestively, pulling Peyton into his arms. She leaned forward for a kiss, and Rory's eyes widened as she caught a glimpse of Logan's tongue. Mortified, she quickly averted her eyes.

Peyton pulled back. "So what are you looking at?" she asked.

Logan showed her the two books. "I might just get both of them."

"Ooh, my sister _loved_ the Nicholas Sparks one. She said it was the best book she ever read."

The two continued to talk, and after a few minutes, Rory realized that she had become completely irrelevant. Logan had forgotten about her, just like that.

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. Why was she even surprised? Why was she even still standing there? A sickening sensation began to come over her, and she hurried toward the door, suddenly desperate to escape.

As she walked away, she heard Peyton ask, "Who was that girl you were talking to?"

"Oh, just a junior copywriter from the firm."

Rory's humiliation burned even hotter at Logan's response, and she felt relieved when she passed the threshold of the store. Outside, she leaned against the brick wall and looked up at the skyscraper on the opposite side of the street. A mixture of fury, self-loathing, and helplessness swirled within her. How could she have fallen into Logan's trap? What had she been thinking? What had she been hoping? Just standing there, like…like a girl who liked him!

She just had to face the truth: Logan Huntzberger was Logan Huntzberger, and that was never going to change. She knew what he was like…had always been like. The glimpses that she thought she'd seen of something more to him were just facades, nothing more. Of course he had yet another new girlfriend. Of course he was buying her expensive handbags and taking her away for the weekend. What else did Logan Huntzberger do when it came to women? Was he not the most predictable man in the universe? She silently vowed not to entertain any thoughts about him other than the ones she knew were absolutely true.

With a shake of her head and a heavy sigh, she trotted back to the office, nursing her bruised ego, determined to put Logan out of her mind for good.

************

"Of course, Busy Wandsneider's dress was far too low-cut for that dinner, but her new husband approves of that sort of thing. I suppose that's what happens when you lure in a young man with your dead husband's money," Emily said, sniffing with contempt for her onetime tennis partner who didn't understand the graceful side of aging. She stabbed a spear of lettuce and chewed it thoroughly before washing it down with a sip of white wine.

Lorelai nodded tightly and pasted on as much of a smile as she could muster, which at this point wasn't much. For at least a half an hour, Emily had been chronicling all the downfalls -- physical, mental, and social -- of her peers, tingeing her words with the scorn they so richly deserved, as anyone with half a brain could conclude, at least in her opinion.

"She's hyphenating her name, too. I guess she doesn't want anyone to forget where her money really came from," Emily added. "Not that I would want her new name, either. Her new husband's last name is Diddler. Can you imagine? It's nearly pornographic."

"Well, Mother, just imagine if she didn't hyphenate," Lorelai remarked.

"Wandsneider-Diddler is so painfully laborious to say or write," Emily continued, not paying attention to Lorelai. "I have to remember to leave an extra inch of space for her name whenever I address an invitation to her. I just spoke to Libby Plath the other day, and she has the exact same problem. It's such an inconvenience to us all. But you can never depend on Busy Wandsneider to have even an iota of a clue."

A waiter interrupted them to place their entrees on the table: a salmon filet for Emily and a gourmet burger for Lorelai.

Emily glared at Lorelai's plate. "Really, Lorelai, we're at one of the finest dining establishments in Manhattan, and you order a cheeseburger."

"It's a _gourmet_ cheeseburger."

"It's a cheeseburger."

"And it is pretty much the greatest food in the history of food."

Emily rolled her eyes and waved her hand. "I don't know what your father and I did wrong. We sent you to the best schools," she said before tasting her salmon.

"Emily Gilmore?" a woman's voice called from a distance.

Lorelai and Emily both turned to see a well-dressed woman about Emily's age waving at them from a few tables over.

Emily's eyes widened, and a smile spread over her face. "Why, Diana Stirling, what a wonderful surprise!" Emily exclaimed.

Diana got up and came over to Lorelai and Emily's table. "Now what are the odds that we would see each other in the supermarket yesterday, and New York City today?" Diana asked.

"It must be fate," Emily declared. "Whatever are you doing in the city today?"

"Oh, I'm visiting my son. He's an accountant on Wall Street, and he just hasn't been able to come home recently, so I decided to come and visit him. He's right over there, in the navy suit," Diana said, pointing to the back of the head of a man at her table.

Emily looked especially enchanted. "Did you hear that, Lorelai?" she asked. "Diana's son works on Wall Street." She said _Wall Street_ like there was no higher compliment.

"I did hear that," Lorelai replied, trying to fend off the repeating lurch that had gripped her stomach. She truly hoped that Emily was not about to do what she suspected Emily was about to do.

"His name is Duncan, and he recently got a promotion," Diana said proudly. "He's in the upper-six figures now."

"Upper-six figures? And how long has he been with this company?" Emily asked, sounding more and more interested every second.

"Only two years! Duncan says that when you're good to the company, they are good to you."

"Well, I am very impressed."

"We all are." Diana beamed so brightly, light was about to stream out of her ears.

Emily cast a quick glance at Lorelai. "You know, my daughter Lorelai here works in the city for Huntzberger and Stiles as an ad executive. They keep her so busy, she barely has time to meet anybody new. Is Duncan seeing anybody?"

Lorelai's mouth fell open at her mother's audacity. She tried to shoot a glare at Emily, but Emily studiously avoided Lorelai's eyes.

"Why, no, he isn't," Diana returned, eyeing Lorelai approvingly. "He says it's nearly impossible to find a quality girl in the city. Isn't that ironic? I would think the city would be crawling with wonderful young ladies."

"Lorelai, what do you think of that?" Emily prompted expectantly.

"Uh, it's hard out there for a pimp?"

"I'm sorry, a what?" Diana asked.

"Uh, what I meant was, it's never easy," Lorelai clarified, feeling Emily's death ray glare on her.

"Lorelai, why don't you go over and introduce yourself to Duncan?" Emily suggested, her tone more closely resembling an order.

"Oh, Mom, I wouldn't want to break up Diana's lunch with her son. I know how important those visits are. All the bonding, the intimate chats…you can't get that time back, you know," Lorelai said, staring directly into Emily's eyes.

Emily steeled her gaze right back. "Nonsense, Lorelai, Diana would be happy to introduce you."

"I think Duncan would love to meet you," Diana said helpfully. "You are very pretty. He loves pretty girls."

"I don't know, I don't want to inconvenience --"

"My God, Lorelai, don't you want to be married someday?" Emily interrupted, pulling out the battle axe. "You have to meet men in order for that to happen. Have you met any men lately, Lorelai?"

Thinking of Christopher, Lorelai hesitated just a second too long.

"Lorelai?" Emily pressed, watching Lorelai very carefully.

"No, no, I haven't," Lorelai said quickly, wishing her mother would just disappear. She turned to Diana and said with resignation, "I would love to meet your son."

************

"The _whole time_?" Rory's eyes were wide with disbelief.

Lorelai adjusted her position on the couch and prepared to deliver the final blow. "The _whole_ time," she said, relishing Rory's incredulous expression.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, you have really nice ones, but…the whole time?"

"I'm telling you, Kid, I think Duncan Stirling only looked at my face once, and that was only because I sneezed. But he definitely said 'Bless you' to my chest."

"And your mom and Diana…?"

"Totally oblivious. I'm pretty sure my mom was mentally packing a hope chest, and Diana was picking out china."

"Well, can you blame them? Here they have a reasonably good-looking, thirty-five-year old man with a great job, totally available, and there you were, with all the powers of your Gilmore charm, and they just assumed their work was done."

"Either that, or all his time sitting at a desk made him permanently incapable of raising his eyes any higher."

Rory giggled. "You were probably relieved anyway, though. I mean, you're not looking for anybody else."

Lorelai's eyebrows knit together. "I'm not looking for anybody else?"

"Well, you seem to be pretty settled."

Lorelai sighed. "Rory, I don't have to explain this to you again, do I?"

"I'm just telling you what it looks like from the outside. I saw the size of the bag you brought home from your La Perla expedition. Don't try to tell me you just happened to need a racy knicker fix when Christopher is conveniently coming back in a few days."

"Uh…" Lorelai searched around for a comeback and spied the book Rory had been reading when Lorelai had returned home. "Maybe underwear is to me what books are to you."

"I don't read books with Dean," Rory said pointedly.

Lorelai stood up. "Just so you know, I have a comeback waiting for you. I just can't deliver it right now," she sniffed.

"I'll be waiting, Gilmore." Rory's lips curved into a tiny, victorious grin.

"Have fun reading, uh…what is that, _The Notebook_? Oh, my God, you're reading _The Notebook_? I thought you said you'd rather drink hemlock. I distinctly recall you standing on our coffee table and telling me to read your lips."

Rory colored. "Who said I was reading _The Notebook_?"

"Uh, it's lying on the coffee table with one of your special bookmarks in it."

Rory quickly scooped up the book and gave Lorelai a look. "Weren't you on your way to bed just now?"

Lorelai grinned. Now they were even. "Rory Leigh is a flip-flopper!" she yelled as she skipped back to her bedroom.

************

Tucked under the covers, Lorelai lay in her bed, the small table lamp illuminating a corner of the room. She stared at her phone, lying on the bedside table, noticing how silent and still it was, and how big her bed seemed when she was the only one in it.

The emotions hit her all at once. She missed Christopher. She missed his voice and laughter and the way she sometimes felt weak when he kissed her. She'd gotten used to having him around. In the solitude of night and security of her bed, she could admit it, at least to the smallest, most hidden part of herself.

She wondered what he was doing. Since it was three hours earlier in Seattle, he was probably still up, maybe having dinner…maybe meeting new people…new women.

Impulsively, she grabbed her phone and dialed his number. Heart pounding, she waited for him to pick up, silently willing him to answer.

His voice came through clearly. "Lorelai?" he asked, sounding concerned.

"Hi, it's me," she said.

"Is everything all right?"

"Yeah…yeah, no, everything's fine. I just…I don't know, I was just thinking…I was thinking, and I decided to call, and I know we said no calls, but I'm just…I'm calling." She took a breath. "You're doing okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, the conference is going great. We're having a great time."

"We?"

"Yeah, me and Mike, my partner. He snores, and I wouldn't let him invite a pair of twins up the other night, but other than that, we're doing great."

An unexpected feeling of relief swept through her. "Oh, good."

"The triplets, though, that was another story."

"Christopher!"

She heard him chuckle. "It's good to hear your voice, Lor."

"It's good to hear yours."

There was a short pause. "You know, if you want to call, you should just call, okay? Whatever's on your mind…just call. Don't worry about anything else."

She nodded, even though she knew he couldn't see her, glad that he was giving her permission. "I had lunch with my mom today," she said.

"Yeah? I didn't know she was going to be in town."

"Neither did I, until yesterday."

"Short notice."

"It's the spontaneity that makes her so adorable."

"So you survived?"

"If I just said _yes_, that wouldn't do the story justice."

"Lay it on me."

With a smile, she told him about the debacle at lunch, and how Emily had chastised Lorelai for her incorrigible stubbornness afterward when she had flat-out refused Duncan's phone number. The conversation then moved on to tips for dealing with controlling parents (Christopher recommended moving to California), a debate over which celebrities of a certain age had gone under the knife, and theories about why all trailers for horror movies looked the same. Before Lorelai had realized it, two hours had flown by. And after she finally clicked her phone off, a dreamy smile played on her lips as she closed her eyes.


	8. Bust a Move

**CHAPTER 8 - BUST A MOVE  
**

Lorelai was determined to stay in bed as long as she could. She opened one eye, focusing it on her clock radio. It read 9:59. Defiantly, Lorelai closed her eyes. Weekends were sacred.

She nearly hit the ceiling when her phone started blaring "Bust a Move." With a disoriented scramble, she pawed her nightstand and grabbed the phone.

"Christopher?" she said into the receiver.

"Hi, Lor, it's me," came Christopher's voice.

"Hey, how are you?" Lorelai asked, a smile tipping her lips up.

"I think the question is, _where_ am I?"

"Um, you're in Seattle."

"Guess again."

"Uh, you're in a Starbucks in Seattle?"

"Au contraire. Yours truly is back in good old Manhattan. Just got in an hour ago."

Lorelai's mouth dropped open. "You're back in town? But I thought you weren't going to fly until tonight."

"Eh, conference ended, and I figured it wasn't worth spending an extra day here just because of my flight schedule, so I called up the airline and caught a red-eye back to the city."

"Oh, my God, I can't believe it."

"Well, I am here, so while you may choose to discount reality, reality isn't really discounting you. And, uh, the reality is that I was hoping I could see you tonight, if that works for you."

Lorelai's stomach did a happy little flip. "Well, let me check my schedule." Without pausing, she continued, "Okay, schedule's checked. I'm free."

"Great," Christopher said, sounding pleased. "How does eight sound?"

"Eight sounds great."

"Okay, Lor, I'll see you then."

"Yeah, okay, bye," Lorelai said, smiling broadly to herself.

After she clicked the phone off, she bounded off her bed and threw open her closet doors. Her eyes quickly skimmed the garments hanging inside, settling on a cardigan and a pretty sundress with a neckline that gave the faintest hint of cleavage if she wore a push-up bra. She walked over to her dresser and pulled open a drawer, displaying all of her underwear. She pulled out the tiny, ruffled panties she had bought from the lingerie store, and smiled again.

************

Rory raised an eyebrow as a bathrobed Lorelai hummed around the kitchen with a towel on her head.

"My, my, aren't we in a chipper mood today," Rory commented.

"Today," Lorelai told her, "is a very nice day."

Rory glanced out the window and saw sunshine. "I agree."

Lorelai pulled out a cereal bowl. "Christopher's back in town," she gushed, and Rory then understood her friend's mood.

"Ahh," Rory said. "Are you going to see him?"

Lorelai poured some cereal into the bowl. "I might stop by."

Rory pursed her lips in amusement. It wasn't often that she got to see Lorelai waltzing around the kitchen like a Disney princess. "Well, if you're looking to kill some time, you could come to the bookstore with me and Dean."

Lorelai put the milk away and brought her cereal over to where Rory was sitting. "You need a chaperone?" she asked jokingly.

Rory gave her a look. "My college professor just published a book, and he's doing a signing. They just showed him on _The Today Show_."

Lorelai appeared to consider the offer. "Sure, why not?" she said casually.

"Great. Be ready at two."

"Aye-aye, captain."

Rory stifled a giggle as Lorelai waltzed back into the kitchen to pour herself some orange juice.

************

Rory had a feeling she had sorely underestimated the popularity of her college professor when she saw the amazing crowd of people outside the bookstore.

"Oh, my God," Lorelai breathed when she, Dean, and Rory entered the jam-packed bookstore. She turned to Rory accusingly. "This line is, like, a million people long! I thought he was just a professor!"

Rory gave her a helpless look. "How was I supposed to know an appearance on _The Today Show_ was going to produce this kind of turnout?"

Lorelai stumbled backward as a large woman knocked into her as she tried to pass by. "This is insane! It's like Lollapalooza, except everyone in here has showered and isn't pierced from head to toe."

"And is female between the ages of twenty and sixty," Dean pointed out.

Rory looked around. Dean was indeed correct. The store was crawling with women, most of whom were standing in line, clutching copies of her professor's book: a tome on the themes of class, gender, and sex in _Gone With the Wind_, and what today's woman could learn from them. "I guess Margaret Mitchell still holds quite the sway," she commented.

Dean craned his head over the crowd, which wasn't hard due to his towering height. "I'm thinking it has less to do with Margaret Mitchell and more to do with the fact that your professor looks like he could be the next Bachelor."

Lorelai turned to Rory. "Your professor looks like a guy who will make out with a bunch of nubile young women who are willing to sacrifice their dignity in a hot tub? You never told me that." She tried to peek to the front of the line, with little success. "I find him infinitely more interesting now."

Rory just rolled her eyes. "I told you he was good-looking and that's why so many girls signed up for his class. He's not a player, though. He's very cultured and educated."

"Bill Clinton was cultured and educated. Well, he was educated."

"Professor Medina was one of the best professors I had in college. Plus, he wrote the recommendation that convinced Mitchum to hire me."

Over the next several minutes, the line moved slowly, and Lorelai complained that she needed caffeine, or she was going to fall asleep standing up. Rory told her to be patient, but eventually, Lorelai's griping got to be too much, and Rory banished her to the coffee bar. With nary a trace of remorse, Lorelai skipped off, leaving Rory alone with Dean.

"She's something else, isn't she," Dean remarked with a chuckle.

"She's just excited that her not-boyfriend is back in town," Rory told him.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "She's not dating Christopher?"

"Technically, no."

"Interesting technicality."

"Try convincing _her_ of that."

While they waited in line, Rory found herself scanning the bookstore. She couldn't bring herself to admit the real reason for doing it: Logan. She knew he was out of town that weekend, vacationing at his parents' condo in some Miami high rise -- with _Peyton_ -- but she couldn't help looking around hopefully, anyway. Her fervent vow to forget about him after their run-in at the bookstore had lasted a pitiful twenty minutes.

She didn't know what had gotten into her. Since when was she such a glutton for punishment? She had no chance with him, she didn't _want_ a chance with him, yet the more she purposed not to think about him, the more she had found herself noticing him. She found herself memorizing the shape of his mouth, and the way his hair would curl just so at the back of his neck, and the way his pants draped from narrow hips, and wondering what it would be like to press her hand against his chest -- clothed, of course. That was as far as she had permitted the fantasy to go.

She felt Dean's hand come to rest on her shoulder, and a fresh wave of guilt coursed through her. She cared about Dean. He adored her and was good to her. What could Logan possibly offer her that Dean couldn't?

_Intellectual stimulation. Challenge. Fun. Great sex._

She immediately felt her cheeks warm. Dean was the type of guy any girl would dream of having. Hadn't all the secretaries at the office made that abundantly clear? And she didn't want Logan. She didn't. She couldn't.

Dean's hand moved to the small of her back, and she looked up at him. "I'm so glad you decided to come," she told him earnestly.

"I'm so glad you decided to ask," he returned.

He rubbed her back affectionately, and she gave his arm a grateful touch. "You are the best guy in the world," she said.

Dean looked thrilled. He stood up a little straighter, puffing his chest out proudly. "Only because you're the best girl."

He slipped his arm around her waist, and Rory allowed him to pull her closer.

_See?_ her mind told her. _Dean is the one for you. You're doing the right thing. Don't be an idiot and screw this up._

Finally, after what seemed like ages, they approached the front of the line. Rory could see Professor Medina cheerfully signing books for a giddy mother and daughter duo who gushed over his writing before being escorted away by one of the bookstore workers. The next fans were two girls who looked about Rory's age, except overly tanned and wearing clothes that made them look like they were holding on to their memories of making homecoming court. One of the girls batted her eyelashes at Professor Medina and asked for a photo. He obliged, and just before the picture was snapped, the other friend flashed a peace sign. Rory turned to Dean and indicated that she was suppressing a groan.

At last it was Rory and Dean's turn to greet Professor Medina. He immediately recognized Rory and stood with a big smile on his face.

"Rory!" he exclaimed, coming out from behind the table to give her a quick hug while the women in line glared. "Wow, this is a surprise -- but a very good one."

Rory grinned. "I'm glad it's good."

"It is. Very. I'm never sorry to see one of my best students." Professor Medina glanced at Dean. "And your friend?"

"Oh, right," Rory said, realizing she had forgotten to introduce Dean. "Professor Medina, this is Dean."

"The boyfriend," Dean quickly supplied, holding out his hand.

Professor Medina gave Rory an approving glance and then shook Dean's hand. "Call me Max." He turned to Rory. "You, too. I'm not your professor anymore."

"Uh, I think that habit will be a little hard to break," Rory informed him with a smile.

"So, tell me what's new," Max said. "Slaying corporate dragons?"

"Well, I wouldn't call it slaying," Rory said modestly, "but I do occasionally deal with dragons. Thank you again for writing that recommendation. I got a job and a roommate and best friend because of it."

"Roommate and best friend? I'm better than I thought," Max joked.

"Yeah, she works at Huntzberger and Stiles, too. She came with us, but I had to send her off to get coffee." Rory quickly glanced around the store. "Oh, there she is," she said, spotting Lorelai over by the magazine racks. "Lorelai!" She tried waving, but Lorelai didn't see her.

Max's gaze followed Rory's eyeline. "I see," he said, a different tone coming over his voice. His eyes lingered on Lorelai for an extra second before returning to Rory.

"Well, it was so good to see you, Professor Medina," Rory said. "Congratulations on your new book."

"Thank you, Rory," Max said. "It means a lot that you came down to the signing."

"I wouldn't have missed it."

Before Rory could turn to leave, Max opened his mouth like he was going to say something else. "Are you going to be sticking around here for a bit?" he asked.

"For a little while," Rory answered.

"Good," Max said. "Maybe we can catch up some more if I can sneak away from this table for a few minutes."

Rory glanced at the line, which didn't seem any shorter than when they had arrived. "Uh, good luck with that," she said, grinning.

"I'll do my best," Max whispered. "Dean, good to meet you," he said more loudly.

"Same." Dean gave him a friendly nod, then put his arm around Rory's shoulders.

"He's a cool guy," Dean said as they walked toward the fiction aisle.

"Yeah, he's great," Rory said, starting to think about what books she wanted to check out.

Suddenly, Dean tightened his arm around her and planted a firm kiss on her lips. Rory was so taken aback that she almost lost her balance.

"What was that for?" she asked, dazed.

The look in Dean's eyes was deep. "You know why," he said softly.

"Yeah," Rory said, her heart skittering strangely, "I think I do."

Her answer seemed to satisfy him, and they continued on to the fiction section.

************

Humming a catchy song from a commercial, Lorelai pulled a final magazine from the rack and moseyed over to an overstuffed chair where she had already set up camp. The bookstore was a little noisier than usual due to all the tittering women waiting to lay eyes, and hopefully hands, on Rory's professor, but it all receded into the background as Lorelai prepared for her bookstore ritual of reading the weekly trash magazines. It was amazing how much enjoyment she got out of seeing pictures of celebrities caught picking their wedgies or falling on the sidewalk because their heels were too high.

She decided to start with _People_ and settled into the chair, taking a sip of her extra large coffee as she flipped open the cover page. While her eyes quickly scanned the blurbs about who was pregnant and who was splitting up, her mind only half-comprehended the copy. Since she had gotten Christopher's call, she had been having difficulty concentrating fully on anything else.

The real reason she had agreed to go to Rory's professor's book signing wasn't that she wanted to meet the man or even browse -- it was that Christopher's apartment wasn't too far away. Although she had agreed to come over at eight, she had gotten the idea that she could just go a little earlier and surprise him. She smiled to herself as she thought about seeing him…kissing him…undressing hi --

A shadow fell over her, interrupting her thoughts. Lorelai looked up to see a handsome man in a blazer standing in front of her. He had dark hair and an intellectual face, and he was looking at her like he recognized her.

"Hi," the man said. "Lorelai, right?"

Lorelai paused, trying to recall if she knew him. Nothing registered. "I'm Lorelai," she answered cautiously.

The man smiled. "I'm Max Medina," he said, extending his hand. "Rory's professor."

Lorelai's mouth dropped open. "Oh, Rory's professor!" she exclaimed, standing up and shaking his hand. "You have the book."

Max chuckled. "I do. I have the book," he said, looking at her with an even more interested expression than before.

"You're signing the book."

"I am signing the book. Lots of them, luckily for me."

Lorelai felt guilty for skipping out on the line. "It's -- it's a great book," she told him.

"Thank you. If I may say so, I'm really proud of it."

"That's fantastic. So really very fantastic. And the book is fantastic."

He gave her a suspicious but amused look. "I'm glad you liked it. Tell me, what was your favorite part?" he asked.

"Uh…" Lorelai thought quickly, realizing she was about to get caught. "You know, it's so hard to choose. It was so well-written. Picking a favorite part is a little like picking your favorite child, you know? Not that I have kids, but that's what they say."

Max smiled. "If you have your copy, I'd be happy to sign it for you right now. Since you weren't in the line and you're such a big fan and all."

Lorelai realized he was on to her game. "Would you believe that I left it at home? Right on the nightstand. So silly of me."

Max chuckled. "It's all right. You're forgiven."

"Well, thank you."

Max stared at Lorelai for a moment. "You know, I need to be honest. There are still a bunch of women standing in line waiting for me to sign their books. I told them I was going on a bathroom break, but really I lied to them just so I could come over here and meet you. Do you have plans for this evening?"

Lorelai was shocked. Getting asked out by Rory's professor was the last thing she had expected when she had agreed to come to the book signing. "I…" She tried to think of something to say, but her brain was whirling.

_Christopher_. Somehow her brain managed to get that message through. She had plans with Christopher. _Sex plans._

"I realize this is really sudden," Max said semi-apologetically. "Normally I'd try to impress you a little more, but time is of the essence here."

Lorelai was still trying to process being asked out. Why was he doing this? What did she even think of him? She looked at him and just couldn't conjure up a hypothetical date scenario between them. "I'm sorry," she said, "but I have plans."

Max seemed not to be deterred. "What about tomorrow night?"

"I don't know," she said slowly, her voice indicating a _no_.

Max glanced back at the line of restless women. "Look," he said, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet, "I'm going to be on a book tour for the next few weeks, but when I get back, I'd love to take you out." He looked her over again. "You are a knockout. Anywhere you want to go, I'll take you there. Pastis, the Met, the hot dog stand…I've got connections. Especially at the hot dog stand." He opened his wallet, pulled out a business card, and handed it to her. "Call me. Please."

Wordlessly, Lorelai took the card. Max gave her a nod of acknowledgment, mouthing the words _call me_, and zoomed back to the line of adoring fans.

Lorelai watched him for a moment, her mind still reeling from what had happened. She glanced down at the card, letting her eyes trace over the distinguished font. She sat back down and filed the card away in her purse, then tried to return to her magazine. Instead, her brain just replayed the scene between her and Max over and over. The more she thought about it, the more ridiculous it seemed.

"Hey, Gilmore."

Lorelai looked up to see Rory and Dean approaching her. Dean was carrying a stack of books, while Rory held a coffee in her hand.

Lorelai closed the magazine in her lap and stood up. "You will never guess what happened. Not thirty minutes ago, your professor came over here and asked me out."

Rory almost choked on her coffee. "What? Really? He asked you out?"

"Yep. Gave me his card and everything."

Rory eyed Lorelai with curiosity. "So what did you say? Did you say yes?"

"I told him I had plans," Lorelai replied with a shrug.

"Plans with Christopher."

"Well, I didn't mention Christopher, but he didn't really give me a chance to explain."

Rory and Dean exchanged looks.

"You know, you're perfectly free to go on a date with Professor Medina," Rory pointed out. "I mean, if I'm understanding the rules you and Christopher have correctly."

Lorelai gave Rory a funny look. "I already told Chris I would come over. Why would I flake on him? I mean, I haven't seen him for a week."

Rory and Dean exchanged another look, this one with an especially knowing expression in Rory's eyes.

"What?" Lorelai asked, genuinely confused. "What? Tell me."

Rory just giggled. "You're quite a woman, Gilmore," she said, putting a hand on Lorelai's shoulder. "Quite a woman."

************

It was just past six o'clock when Lorelai got off the elevator on Christopher's floor. Before knocking on his door, she pulled out a mirror from her purse and checked her appearance. Everything looked all right: the humidity hadn't destroyed the carefully styled curls in her hair, and her makeup looked fresh. She smoothed her cardigan and the front of her dress and felt an exciting little shiver of anticipation in her stomach as she pulled out her phone and dialed Christopher's number.

He answered after two rings. "Hi, Lor," he said.

"What'cha doin'?" she asked.

"Nourishing myself with pizza and beer. They don't make pizza like this in Seattle, although I had some very good house microbrews."

"Well, I want to tell you that you should open your front door."

"I should open my front door." Christopher sounded curious.

"You should. There's something waiting out there for you."

"Okay. Can you give me a hint?"

"I think you'll like it."

"Lor, you didn't buy anything, did you?"

"No. Just open the door."

"All right, all right. Give me a second."

Lorelai grinned as she heard Christopher's footsteps approaching the door. The lock turned, and the door swung open, revealing Christopher's face.

Lorelai lowered the phone from her ear. "Surprise," she said softly.

His eyes drank her in from head to toe and then back up. "You were right, I do like this," he murmured.

"I thought you wouldn't mind if I showed up a little early."

"Not at all," he said, stepping aside to let her in.

After he closed the door, he slid his arms around her waist, pressing her to his chest. His body was warm and firm, and Lorelai couldn't help making a small sigh when he took her lips in an unhurried kiss.

"Welcome back," she whispered after they parted. Their faces lingered close to each other, and she tilted her head up for another leisurely kiss. His mouth was warm and welcoming, and she sighed again as his lips left sparks where they touched hers.

She pulled back and then planted a final soft kiss on his lips. "You taste like pepperoni," she told him.

Christopher chuckled. "You want some?" he asked. "I just started."

Lorelai breathed in and felt her appetite kick in. The pizza did smell good…great, actually.

Christopher read the expression on her face. "Come on," he said decisively, putting his hand on her back and guiding her into the kitchen. "Pizza for me and also for thee."

Lorelai looked at him. "You know me too well."

Christopher just laughed.

Lorelai perched herself on a bar stool at the counter while Christopher put a slice of pizza on a plate for her, then opened the refrigerator to grab her a bottle of beer.

"So, tell me about your trip," she said, twisting off the cap and taking a swig. She looked at the bottle and realized it was the same brand she'd been drinking the first day she had met him. A little smile came over her face as she remembered how crazy the sexual tension had been between them almost instantaneously.

"You mean, more than I told you the last three nights that we talked?" Christopher asked before taking a bite of his pizza.

"Well, you might have forgotten something."

"Let's see…the fire alarm got pulled."

"You told me that."

"Karaoke night with the Nintendo people?"

"Told me that."

"My buddy Mike getting stopped by Homeland Security because he forgot to tell them about the pin in his shoulder?"

"Ooh, no, you didn't tell me that." Lorelai wiggled on the stool to sit up a little straighter.

"Yeah, so you know how Mike's my partner on these things, and when he was in college, he was in a frat, and they did the sort of things that frat guys do when deeply under the influence of, shall we say, substances of questionable legality. Well, one night, that involved dirt bike stunts at a skate park, and, well, you can probably guess the rest."

"Not gonna make it to the X-Games, huh?"

"No, but he swears he can pick up radio stations with his shoulder."

Lorelai laughed. "I need to meet this guy."

"I can arrange that. We're actually doing a showcase next weekend right here in New York. It's gonna be big. There might be people in costumes. You should come to that."

Lorelai considered the offer. "Okay, maybe I will," she said.

"Great. Sounds like a plan," Christopher said. He held up his bottle of beer, and they clinked the necks together.

"So what's new with you?" he asked.

"I went with Rory and Dean to a book signing today. Rory's old college professor wrote some book that half the women in Manhattan are gaga for. The store was packed to the rafters with cat ladies."

"Is it really that good?"

"I have no idea. Advertising has destroyed my ability to read anything longer than a page, and that's pushing it." Lorelai and Christopher shared a little laugh. "Besides, I think the only reason these women were interested was because he did promo for it on _The Today Show_. I guess that's one way to sell books, you know: be devastatingly handsome."

Christopher's face subtly changed. "He was a good-looking guy, huh?"

Lorelai shrugged. "I guess, if you like that academic look. The funny thing is, I was reading a magazine, not even standing in line, and he came over to me and asked me out. Can you believe that?"

Christopher suddenly seemed busy with the label on his beer bottle. "Do you really think it's that unbelievable?"

"I'd never seen the guy before in my life, and all of a sudden he's just asking me out? I'd say that's pretty unbelievable."

"What did you tell him?"

"Oh, I told him I had plans," Lorelai said, waving her hand. "He wouldn't give up, though. He gave me his card and told me to call him."

"Are you going to call him?"

Lorelai snorted. "Of course not. He could be an axe murderer, for all I know."

Christopher's shoulders relaxed. "Well, you never know with those academics."

"Exactly! They only _look_ harmless on the outside."

"Except when their pens are bleeding all over your papers."

They shared a laugh, and when the laughter died down, Lorelai found herself looking into Christopher's eyes. Her cheeks warmed, and she could feel her heart rate accelerate as a shiver of excitement rippled through her. She noticed that they had both set down their beers.

"You know what's good about you being back?" she asked lightly, feeling the pitter-pat of her heart. "I was actually getting tired of reality TV. Bret Michaels is not the man he was once was. Or actually, he is, which is kind of the problem."

Her heart skipped a beat as Christopher reached out a hand and touched her cheek. "You can do so much better than Bret Michaels," he told her, a playful smile on his lips.

"Surprisingly, you're the first person who's told me that," she replied, her gaze dropping to his mouth.

Their lips met in a soft but ardent kiss. The sensation sent electric currents shooting through Lorelai, reminding her of why she'd been so attracted to Christopher to begin with. Without thinking, she stood up, and Christopher did the same. He wrapped his arms around her, one hand sliding into her hair and cradling her head, the other sliding around her waist.

They continued to kiss, the beer and pizza on the counter forgotten, as soft sounds emanated from Lorelai's throat. She parted her lips to him and kissed him even more deeply as his hands began to slide over her body, following the curve of her back and then cupping her breast before returning to her bottom. She stroked his face and neck, then his chest, while his tongue pursued hers.

His lips moved to her neck, and Lorelai shrugged out of her cardigan, revealing her bare arms and shoulders covered only by thin straps. She ran her hands over his back, feeling his lean muscles under his shirt, and tipped her head in the opposite direction to give Christopher access to the other side of her neck. When he dragged his tongue in a hot, zig-zagging line from the base of her neck to her jawline, pressing wet kisses to her skin there, she couldn't contain her moan. "God," she muttered breathlessly. She had missed this so much while he had been gone. Need began to pool within her, and, getting an idea, she hooked her fingers into the belt loops of Christopher's pants, pulling him away with her.

He followed her lead, their feet shuffling along the floor. They took small steps, unwilling to let any space between them. When they entered the living room, Christopher tried to steer her toward the bedroom, but she resisted and led him over to the couch. She pushed him lightly, and he sat down. "No bedroom?" he asked, sounding slightly dazed.

She shook her head wolfishly. She climbed onto his lap and took his face into her hands. "Unnecessary," she murmured before pressing new, passionate kisses to his lips.

He wrapped his arms around her, and they lost themselves in hot, all-consuming kisses as their hands ran unchecked over everything they could touch. Christopher's hands reached for the zipper of her dress and pulled it down, exposing her back to the air and quickly moving inside to touch her skin. They pressed close together, their bodies caressing and rubbing, mimicking what was to come.

An uncontrollable heat was building in Lorelai, a throbbing desire that screamed for satisfaction. She felt Christopher's hips pushing insistently against her, and she knew she needed to feel him. She pried her mouth away from his and panted, "Take your clothes off."

He nodded, his pupils wide, and hurriedly peeled his shirt off, tossing it aside. Lorelai moved off his lap, standing to let him pull down his pants and boxer-briefs. She stared at him, hungry for what she saw, the ache inside her increasing.

"Your turn," Christopher said in a throaty voice.

Maintaining eye contact as long as she could, she turned her back to him and slid the straps of her dress off her shoulders. Glancing back at him over her shoulder, she gave him a sly look and let the dress fall down completely.

His eyes widened as he took in the sight of her, bare except for the band of her bra and the flirty little panties she had bought from the lingerie shop.

She turned and sauntered back to him. His mouth still hung open slightly as she straddled his lap, grabbing pillows from the couch and shoving them behind his back.

"Are you trying to kill me?" he choked out.

She shook her head and gave him a little smile. "Now what would the fun in that be?" she purred, pressing an inviting kiss to his cheek.

"You're cheating, too," he added with effort.

"How so?"

"Well, you're still wearing stuff…."

She leaned forward a little and gave his lips the lightest brush with the tip of her tongue. "I was hoping you could help me with that."

Christopher's hands flew to her back, and a few seconds later, she dropped her bra on the floor.

For a few moments, Christopher just stared at her, a wondrous look on his face. "You are so sexy," he breathed.

An unexpected flush came over Lorelai, and her stomach gave a strange twist. "Well, the situation," she said, deflecting his words and indicating herself with her eyes.

Christopher shook his head. "No, you are. You're gorgeous and sexy." He rested his hand on her cheek, rubbing it gently with his thumb. "Gorgeous and sexy and smart."

"I bet you say that to all the girls."

He brushed his thumb over her lips. "I don't," he said, leaning forward and kissing her in a way that made her heart pound out of her chest.

He trailed his hand down her chest, over her belly, until he came to her panties. "I hope you didn't pay full price for these. They forgot some material in the back," he said with a glint in his eye.

"I don't see anything wrong with them," she returned innocently.

"Me, either," he said, sliding his hand inside.

She hissed hotly as he touched her flesh. "Oh, yeah," she breathed as his finger began to slide against her. "Yes…"

She leaned against him and began to rock her hips, trying to control the quivering sensations inside of her and at the same time satisfy them. The ache between her legs intensified, threatening to consume her, and she looked at him with pleading eyes. "Please," she begged softly, "I can't wait."

"I want you, Lor," he said, his hand stilling.

Lorelai quickly searched his eyes and pulled his hand away from her. Then, swiftly she stood, stripped her panties off, and then re-straddled his lap, positioning herself to take him. She pressed a fiery kiss to his lips and then sank down on him, letting him enter her in one slow, smooth motion.

The pleasure of him was so strong, she had to take a moment to regain her bearings. She stared into his eyes, listening to his ragged breaths mingling with hers. Slowly, deliberately, she began to rock her hips, trying to manage the sensations that threatened to overwhelm her. He pulled her close and kissed her, and her breath caught in her throat at the surprising tenderness.

His hands settled at her hips, and she leaned closer to him, drawing on the heat from his body. She began to circle her hips, whimpering softly at the new currents of pleasure it produced. This was what she had been missing…this closeness…this fullness. "So good," she whispered into his neck. "So good."

He began to move his hips with hers, pushing himself deeper inside her, and she half-moaned, half-whispered directions to him, telling him what she liked, the things to do again. She wrapped her arms around his neck and began to grind harder against him, and he matched her intensity, grunting low in his throat. What they were doing together was so good, so good…nothing was better. She groaned at each amazing thrust of his hips, not caring what she sounded like, only that he was giving her unbelievable pleasure.

They began to move faster together, driving each other higher, sweat easing the friction they were creating, all the while stoking an insatiable need for more. They stared into each other's eyes, punctuating their ragged breaths and moans with sloppy, fevered kisses.

Lorelai's hips moved like lightning, the tension within her reaching its peak. "God, please, Chris," she pleaded, unable to put her desire into words, only knowing that she had to find satisfaction or she would explode.

Christopher pumped his hips rapidly, panting hard as he clutched her to his chest. "I'm here, Lor, I'm here," he promised breathlessly.

Suddenly Lorelai gasped and squeezed her eyes shut as she felt the beginning of her climax. She cried out as it ripped through her like a shockwave, shaking her body and filling her with unspeakable pleasure. With one last jerk of his hips, Christopher followed her, hot and hard, and they collapsed against each other, spent but satisfied, letting the waves crash over them.

When they got their breaths back, Lorelai pulled back and smiled at Christopher. He offered her a wobbly but content smile.

"I should go away more often," he quipped.

Lorelai smoothed a lock of his hair off his forehead. "Not if I can help it."

His eyes flashed. "Yeah?"

She smiled at him. "Yeah. I don't like to wait."

She leaned forward and kissed him. The kiss they shared was sweet, a reward for hard-earned satisfaction. He stroked her cheek, and she covered his hand with hers and kissed his palm. Rousing herself, she slid off his lap and pulled the throw blanket on the back of the couch over them.

As they sat in silence, a thought came to her. "Oh, dammit," she swore.

"What?" Christopher asked, looking slightly alarmed.

She turned her head aside to look at him. "There's this folder of papers, at work. I forgot to bring them home. I was going to work on them this weekend….Dammit." She looked at Christopher apologetically. "I've got to go."

"Wait, right now?"

"Yeah, I really need to go."

"Come on, Lor, there's no rush. They'll still be there in an hour." Christopher wrapped a hand around her elbow. "Stay for a while." He rubbed his cheek against her shoulder, then lightly bit down on it. "I haven't seen you for a week."

Lorelai sighed. "I know, it's just…I really need to get these papers. I mean, what if I forget them again? Then I'd be screwed and not in a pretty way. God, I can't believe I forgot." The image of having to tell Mitchum she'd overlooked her weekend work was not appealing.

She threw back the blanket and got up, picking up her clothes and running to Christopher's bathroom.

When she emerged, she found Christopher dressed and standing, waiting for her. "You're sure you have to go?" he asked.

"I'm sure," she replied, slipping into her shoes. Now that she had realized her mistake, it was all she could think about.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder and looked regretfully at Christopher. "Call me," she said. "And thank you. It was great."

She gave him a quick kiss and shut the door behind her.

************

Dean held Rory's hand as they walked back to her apartment from the movie they had just seen. The evening, for summer, was cool, and a comfortable silence descended over them.

The day, Rory decided, had been good. She had spent the entire day with Dean, and not once had she doubted her decision to spend more time with him. In fact, other than those few brief moments at the bookstore, she had not even thought about Logan. In her mind, this proved that she had just been going through a weird phase. Besides, Logan was probably lolling on a beach in Miami, having Peyton slather coconut oil on him and not thinking one jot about his life in Manhattan.

Dean, on the other hand, had been nothing but attentive and a perfect gentleman. Rory sneaked a glance at him from the side. She was lucky to be with someone like Dean. Dean was what she needed right now. So maybe he didn't set her heart on fire; there was still enough between them to sustain lots of deep affection.

They stopped at the steps to the apartment building, and Rory turned warmly to Dean. "Thanks for everything today," she said earnestly.

Dean took Rory's other hand in his. "You know all you have to do is ask, right?"

"I know, but…you're really good to me. I want you to know that I appreciate that."

Dean looked as though his heart would burst. "I know you do."

"I'll call you soon, okay?" Rory told him, tipping her face up for his kiss.

Dean kissed her softly but didn't let go of her hands. "Rory, there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

Almost instantaneously, an alarm went off in Rory's head, shattering her warm feelings like a pellet through a glass window. Words like Dean's weren't usually followed by casual declarations.

"What?" she asked.

"Well, what are you doing two weekends from now?"

"I'm not sure," she replied, trying to keep the furrow off her brow.

"I want to take you away for the weekend. A trip, just the two of us."

"A -- a trip?" Rory asked, surprised.

"Yeah, like to the shore, or maybe a cabin in the woods or something. Just, you know, us, out of the city, on our own."

"Oh." Immediately Rory thought of Logan in Miami. She cursed herself. Why did she always have to think of him at the wrong time? Dean was good. Dean was honorable. Dean was --

"I'd love to go," she heard herself saying. "I think that's a great idea."

Dean's face bloomed into a radiant smile. "I knew you would say yes," he said. "I mean, I had a feeling you would."

"Guess it's your lucky day, then," Rory said, even as a strange feeling started to settle in her stomach.

"It is," Dean said, beaming. "It most definitely is."


	9. There's a Neanderthal Loose at the Expo

**CHAPTER 9 - THERE'S A NEANDERTHAL LOOSE AT THE EXPO  
**

The popcorn was disappearing rapidly as Lorelai and Rory slouched on the couch, mesmerized by the television. Tori Spelling was getting pushed around by her controlling, hot boyfriend in a secluded cabin.

"Get out, Tori! You can do it!" Lorelai urged.

"Why does she still love him?" Rory bemoaned. "Can't she see that he's a murderer who will stop at nothing to take revenge on hapless college girls who reject him?"

"The canoe, Tori! Use the canoe!" Lorelai yelled, as Tori managed to escape from the cabin.

Rory scooped up another handful of popcorn. "Ooh, here comes the paddling."

"Totally the best part."

"Typecasting at its best."

As Tori desperately tried to paddle down the river to safety, Rory's cell phone began to chime. She quickly snatched up the phone and headed for her bedroom. "Hello?"

"Hey, girlfriend," a young woman's voice chirped on the other end.

Rory grinned. "Hey, Lucy, long time, no talk."

"Yeah, I know, I'm a delinquent, sue me, but it's all for a good reason. I'm doing an exhibit this weekend in the Village and I am officially extending you the invitation to attend."

"Oh, Lucy, that's amazing," Rory said, genuinely happy for her friend. Lucy had lived down the hall from Rory at college, and despite being opposites in personality -- Rory was studious and focused, while Lucy was an artistic free spirit -- the two had hit it off. Although they hadn't been able to get together much after graduating, Rory knew that Lucy had been working hard to get her art career off the ground. Finally, it seemed like that hard work was paying off. "Tell me when and where, and I'll be there, flags waving and pom-poms, um, pomming."

"Well, the flags and the poms aren't necessary, although I would not turn away such accoutrements. The exhibit is Saturday for most of the afternoon, at the Norfolk Gallery. I'll email you with the deets, too. We have this flyer, I'll send it as an attachment."

"Great, I will definitely be there. Oh, and I'll post your flyer at work to try to get more people to come."

"You'd do that? You are fabulous, Rory. You are one classy chick."

Rory smiled. "That's the insidious rumor that's going around these days."

She and Lucy said their goodbyes and hung up, and Rory trotted back to the couch, where Lorelai was sitting with the now-empty popcorn bowl in her lap. She looked at Rory guiltily. "Do you want me to make more?" she asked, mouth partially full.

Rory shook her head. "No, you're off the hook."

Lorelai swallowed, a grateful expression on her face. "So who was that on the phone?"

"Oh, that was Lucy. I'm going to her art exhibit this Saturday."

"This Saturday? I thought you were going to go to Chris's expo with me this Saturday."

"I never said I was going to go with you. You said you were going to make me go with you to save you from the social shame of being seen in such a _milieu_."

"Right, but since you didn't try to fistfight me or set me on fire, I took that as a yes."

"I'm sorry, Gilmore, you're on your own for this one."

"What if I tried to lock you in your room?"

"There's a fire escape right outside my window. Don't worry, Gilmore, this way you won't have to split your attention between me and Christopher." Rory shot Lorelai a look. "Oh, please, I've seen the way you get when he calls. Don't even try to convince me that you're sick of him."

Lorelai opened her mouth, then closed it. "I think we need more popcorn," she announced, standing up.

Rory just chuckled to herself as Lorelai marched into the kitchen.

************

"Rory!" Lorelai yelled.

As she waited for Rory, she paced her room. She had two different possible outfits for Christopher's expo, and five minutes to decide which one she should wear.

Rory popped her head into Lorelai's room. "You called?" she asked.

Lorelai motioned for Rory to come inside. "Help," she said, pointing to the two outfits lying on her bed.

Rory's gaze moved from one outfit to the other. "I like the dress," she said.

"Mega sale at Barney's last weekend," Lorelai informed her.

"Great color."

"That blue makes my eyes look like sapphires. That's what the lady at the store said."

"Great cut."

"You should see my legs in it."

Rory moved on to the second outfit. "Also good," she commented.

"I picked the T-shirt out especially for this occasion."

"'Everybody loves a player.' Very apropos."

"I was not actually the oldest person in Hot Topic when I bought that."

"Nice jeans."

"I'm not gonna lie, they make my butt look good."

"I can see why this is a difficult choice."

"Help me out here, Solomon," Lorelai said impatiently. "Do I have to cut one of these outfits in half?"

"Well," Rory said thoughtfully, "you _are_ going to be in a situation where most of the people there will be dressed down, and most of the people there will also be men who have not had access to beautiful women, so…"

"Yes?" Lorelai motioned Rory on.

"I've gotta recommend the jeans and T-shirt."

"Oh, come on!" Lorelai exclaimed.

"Lorelai, do you want to be hit on by every Tom, Dick, and Harry who comes into your path? Because they _will_ do it, whether they've got a one in ten or one in a million chance with you. And I know you like blowing off clueless men, but I don't want this to become a burden for you. Really think about the convenience of your day."

Lorelai considered Rory's words. "Fine," she conceded with a pout. She picked up the dress and regretfully hung it back in her closet. She would just have to find an excuse to wear it some other time.

"Wow, look at you, Miss Fancy Pants," she said, turning back to Rory and finally getting a look at what her friend was wearing.

Rory spun around, showing off her summery flowered dress and coordinating yellow shrug. "I'm trying to be presentable. Lucy said that they're serving champagne to the guests."

"High class."

"No chicken nuggets at this reception, lady."

"Hmm, I'm betting no terry cloth robes that say 'pimps' across the back, either."

Rory laughed. "Have a good time at the expo, Gilmore."

"Says the classy lady to the frump wearing the T-shirt and jeans."

"Oh, Lorelai, don't be so down in the dumps. Christopher will love your legs, regardless."

Lorelai shot Rory a dirty look and balled up a pair of socks. As they hit the door, she hear Rory's laugh on the other side.

************

After arriving at the convention center where Christopher's gaming expo was being held, it took Lorelai nearly twenty minutes just to find his booth. The huge interior of the center had been transformed into a high-tech carnival, with each booth trying to outdo the others in either size, color, gadgets, or some mixture of the three. Towering backdrops and enormous screens showing demos of games gave the center the feel of a futuristic city, a sort of Tomorrowland on steroids.

When Lorelai spotted Christopher, he was talking to some frat boys who looked like their hair hadn't come into contact with scissors in at least a year. Like puppies entranced by squeaking chew toys, the frat boys hung on every word out of Christopher's mouth as he pressed a few buttons on a controller and different images popped up on the booth's large flat screen. Christopher ran through his pitch like a pro, and Lorelai smiled to herself. He looked like he was in his element, and she couldn't deny how sexy that confidence was on him. She'd never seen him in this mode before; it was like unlocking a completely new side to him.

"Wow," she said, approaching him after the frat boys left, "that was impressive. You almost had me convinced."

Christopher looked up and grinned when he saw her. "Lor, you made it!" he exclaimed.

"I did. I nearly got run over by a pack of Sonic the Hedgehogs, but I made it."

"See, you knew who Sonic was. My evil plan is working."

He leaned across the table that separated them and kissed her on the lips. His touch left an exciting tingle on her lips, and she smiled at him. "I see you're working hard," she said.

"It's all hustle and flow, sweetheart," he returned. "It's how we roll in this muth."

Lorelai gave him a funny look. "Okay, I never want to hear you spouting anything that could come out of Flavor Flav's mouth, ever again."

"Flavor Flav? Someone's references got left in 1991."

"Hey, what can I say? It was a good year. Nirvana broke through, U2 released _Achtung Baby_ and everyone got to see Bono's bug-eye glasses for the first time…"

Christopher chuckled. "So," he said, gesturing to the display behind him, "what do you think?"

Lorelai took a closer look at the display, which featured a stylishly surly caveman brandishing an ugly spear. The word _Cro-Magnon_ was emblazoned across the top in a messy scrawl that was supposed to resemble crude engraving in stone. The whole effect was very melodramatic, but it was one of the most impressive ones in the area, very eye-catching. "The only thing that could make it better would be if Jean-Claude Van Damme were the main guy," she declared.

"You know, we actually tried to get him, and he turned us down? Someone's not giving that guy good career advice."

"Well, when you've got a franchise like _Universal Soldier_, you start thinking you can say no to people."

They shared a laugh, and Lorelai found herself caught in Christopher's steady gaze…something that had been happening a little more often since his return from Seattle. "So," she said, looking away as her heart involuntarily skittered in her chest, "this is where all the magic happens."

"Yep. Come on back, I'll show you the goodies we use to reel 'em in."

With a grin, Lorelai crossed to the other side of the booth.

Christopher held up a remote. "This is the brain of the operation. It controls the display and lets me choose which demo I want to show people." He pressed a few buttons and flicked through the different menu options, then reset it to the original demonstration sequence.

"So, Hal 9000."

"And here we have the reminder cards about the release party in a few weeks," Christopher continued, holding up a stack of the glossy cards, which were printed with the same melodramatic caveman design as the backdrop.

"Spared no expense."

"Some fake tattoos for the little kids, modeled on the characters' tattoos."

"Kat Von D would be so proud."

"And some key chains for the older fans. We're trying to get more female players, and for some reason, girls like key chains." The key chains featured a variety of fobs, some with smaller versions of the release party card, some with plastic clubs, and some with miniature figurines of the caveman.

"Ha, not sexist at all," Lorelai said, reaching for the key chain that Christopher held out to her.

"Gloria Steinem called us personally to tell us she approves."

Lorelai examined the miniature caveman on the end of the key chain. "What's that, you say?" she said, holding the caveman up to her ear. "You want to beat down those dirty Neanderthals? Well, absolutely, your cranium kicks their cranium's ass."

Christopher laughed and held out his hand. "Okay, I think a little too much fun is being had here."

Lorelai hid the key chain behind her back. "No! You can't take it away!" she protested.

"Come on, Lor. You can have it back at the end of class," Christopher said, imitating every teacher Lorelai had ever had in grade school.

"You're not the boss of me," Lorelai shot back, a glint in her eye.

"Oh, really," Christopher said, a grin spreading across his lips.

"You're not."

Soon Christopher had his arms around Lorelai, wrestling with her for the key chain. She could feel the strength in his arms, but she held on, proving to be a worthy adversary. At last, though, he overpowered her and pried the key chain from her hand, his face close to hers as his large hand engulfed her smaller one. A new feeling of vulnerability came over her, and she looked into Christopher's eyes and then at his lips as she processed this unfamiliar sensation.

"Hey, fun game, can I join in?" a male voice interrupted, breaking up the moment.

Lorelai looked over to see a slightly schlubby guy, but with a confident spark in his eyes, grinning at them. She guessed that he was around her age, but he had the look of someone who refused to accept that he wasn't twenty-five anymore. He wore a _Cro-Magnon_ T-shirt like Christopher's and also had an ID badge, which probably meant he was…

"Lor, this is my partner Mike," Christopher said. "Mike, this is my friend Lorelai."

Mike gave Lorelai a very impressed once-over before shaking Lorelai's hand. "At last we meet. Christopher told me about you, but he didn't _tell_ me about you. Holy Moses, you are smokin'. Please tell me he's tried to get you in the sack."

Lorelai glanced at Christopher and grinned. "If he has, I haven't noticed."

Mike shook his head. "My boy here is a good guy, but he lacks _cojones_. A guy who looks like him, you'd think he'd be Action Jackson, but not this guy. Everywhere we go, girls are always coming up to him, but homeboy here can't seal the deal."

Lorelai gave Christopher a surprised look. "Really?" she asked, not sure how to process the idea of other women being interested in Christopher. "You have girls come up to you?"

Christopher rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Lor, don't listen to anything he says. He likes to let his imagination get the better of him sometimes."

"Listen to him, being all modest," Mike scoffed. "Lorelai, this man is girl bait. I get dates because of this man. I get laid because of this man. Women love this man…but he doesn't love them back. Tell me, buddy, how is it that you've been in the Big Apple for three months but have yet to take a single woman on a date?"

Christopher gave Mike a pat on the shoulder. "Unlike you, friend, I have standards."

As if to prove Mike's point, a quartet of teenage girls with braces shuffled up to the booth. Christopher walked over and greeted them. "Hi, ladies, is there anything I can help you with?" he asked, flashing them a smile.

The girls glanced at each other and burst into nervous giggles. Finally, one of them managed to point to her friend and say, "She thinks you're cute!"

Lorelai couldn't help but be charmed and amused when Christopher responded, "Well, thanks. You're the first person I've heard that from today." He didn't skip a beat, and the girls all seemed to melt at the kindness in his tone.

With Christopher occupied, Mike took a step closer to Lorelai. "So, you and Christopher, you're really not…?" he asked half-humorously, half-curiously.

Lorelai shook her head. "We're not dating," she said, hiding a smile as she considered how Mike might react if he knew what was really going on between her and Christopher.

"You're sure?" Mike didn't sound wholly convinced.

"Very sure."

Mike scrunched up his face for a moment, thinking, then brightened with a knowing look on his face. "Oh, I get it. It's because you're hot. Hot chicks always think they can do better."

"Well, that's true. I just got the call today that the Donald is leaving Melania for me."

Mike whistled low, then put his hands up in good-natured defeat. "Hot _and_ sharp. Haden really is an idiot." He shook his head as though he couldn't believe Christopher would be so stupid as not to pursue Lorelai.

"Well, it sounds like he's got quite the selection to choose from. I'm sure something will strike his fancy one of these days."

"I don't know. He seems pretty happy the way things are right now."

Lorelai felt her stomach do a tiny flip. If Christopher was happy…did that mean he was happy with _her_? Mike had already said earlier that Christopher didn't seem interested in other women. Or…did Mike mean that Christopher was happy getting hit on by other women? An unexpected feeling of insecurity rippled through her.

"Look at him," Mike said, sounding more serious. "He's so damn good at this. Freakin' natural."

Lorelai looked at Christopher, who was handing out key chains to the girls, who looked thrilled to get them. "He seems to like his job a lot," she said.

"He should; he's the one who's killing all the other sales teams because wallets just magically open up in his presence."

They both watched Christopher for a moment. Mike was right; Christopher just had a way with people. It was something Lorelai had never thought about before, but the hints had been there: making such a good impression on Logan that Logan would invite him to the company picnic…being a favorite of the Chinese food restaurant owner…

"Do girls really throw themselves at Christopher?" she heard herself asking.

Mike laughed. "It's more like, when _don't_ they? I'm telling you, everywhere we go, there's always someone giving him the eyes. They're all wasting their time, though. I've never seen a guy so uninterested in pursuing easy targets. Maybe you can help him get out there."

Lorelai looked back at Christopher, who was now in a conversation with some women who looked like they were in their mid-twenties, and shifted her weight to her other foot. "Yeah," she said, not taking her eyes off him, "maybe."

************

"Girlfriend!"

Rory entered the exhibit to see Lucy walking toward her with outstretched arms. "Hey, you," Rory said, enveloping her thin friend in a bear hug. She took a look around at the colorful sculptures and paintings that adorned the gallery. "Wow, this is amazing, Luce."

Lucy beamed proudly. "I know. I can hardly believe this is happening. I may finally be able to afford meals that are nicer than baked beans. Come on, let's get you some bubbly and I'll give you the tour."

Lucy led Rory over to a table where a college student in a white button-down shirt was pouring flutes of pale pink champagne. She picked up a flute for herself and Rory, and proceeded to give Rory a tour of the exhibit.

"Oh, wow," Rory said, when they stopped in front of a particularly bold painting that looked like paint had exploded all over it.

"Yeah, that's the one I decided to call _Graduation_," Lucy explained. "You know how you feel like you're supposed to have everything all figured out when they hand you that diploma? Well, this is how I felt."

Rory gave Lucy's arm an affectionate squeeze. Sometimes she felt like she didn't deserve all the good things that had happened to her: getting a job straight out of graduation, finding an amazing roommate and best friend like Lorelai, having someone as devoted as Dean… Meanwhile, people like Lucy struggled to follow their passion, living day to day in order to do what they loved.

They continued on to a sculpture that Lucy described as her ode to weird dreams. In Rory's opinion, it looked like an abstract tree made out of blue ping pong balls.

Before Lucy could show her the next piece of art on display, a woman with glasses called out to her, summoning her to the front.

"Oops, I have to abandon you for a moment," Lucy apologized. "A bigwig just came in."

Rory shooed her away. "Go," she told her. "Shmooze, impress, do what you have to. I can definitely entertain myself."

"Thanks," Lucy said, giving Rory a quick squeeze around the shoulders.

Rory smiled as she watched her friend flutter up to the front, where she greeted an older couple who looked like they bathed in money every morning. Turning her attention back to the exhibit, Rory turned the corner into a smaller room, where several of Lucy's smaller paintings hung.

She was just examining the texture of paint on one of the canvases when she heard a familiar voice that made every hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

_No, it couldn't be._

Clutching her half-empty champagne flute, heart skittering rapidly, she peeked around the corner and felt her stomach drop.

Somehow, against all odds, Logan Huntzberger, along with Colin and Finn, was standing in the entryway. He was shaking the hands of some of the older patrons, and Rory heard snippets of his conversation: "Wonderful….you'll have to ask my father….actually, we've decided on Switzerland this year."

Realizing she was staring, she quickly ducked back into the alcove and leaned against the wall, trying to calm her thoughts.

The past week had been a roller coaster ride of emotions. After spending nearly a full weekend with Dean, Rory had never been so glad to go back to work on Monday. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy Dean's company…it was just that she wasn't used to being around him so much, and, unlike him, she needed down time. One full day of Dean -- one filled with distractions, like going to book signings and movies -- was tolerable. A second day -- one lacking such distractions and instead featuring long stretches of sitting on the couch -- was not. She couldn't exactly put her finger on what it was that set her on edge; she just found herself wishing him away, and then feeling guilty about it.

Work had been a welcome relief…at least until Logan had strode through the doors sporting the kind of sunburn that only he could have: despite the redness in his skin, he still looked as gloriously golden as ever. During the week, he had acted with her as though they'd never had that encounter at the bookstore, and Rory remained convinced that he had put it out of his mind. Why would he even waste time thinking about someone who was "just" a junior copywriter at the firm, anyway? She vacillated between disgust at him and at herself: at him whenever she thought about Peyton, and at herself whenever she thought about the fact that she thought about Peyton.

She peeked out of the side room again and saw that the coast was clear. Maybe she could make a run for it…but that would be rude to Lucy. Her friend had worked too long and too hard for Rory to leave, just because there was a boy in her life who gave her drama. Maybe she could just wait it out in the room -- but what if Logan and his friends came into the room?

Paralyzed by indecision, she decided that she would go out and glom on to Lucy, and that way she would have backup if she happened to run into Logan. Maybe she would even get lucky and Logan wouldn't even bother to notice her.

Taking a breath, she stepped out and turned the corner -- and promptly crashed into someone's chest, spilling the remainder of her champagne all over him before dropping the flute on the floor. It hit the ground with a loud crash, splintering into dozens of jagged shards.

"Oh, God," Rory whispered, clapping her hands over her mouth as everyone in the gallery turned and stared at her. The college student in the button-down shirt immediately zoomed her way with a brush and dustpan, and Rory felt her face burning.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," she said, putting her hands against the chest of the person she'd spilled on. "I am so sorry, I am so --"

And then she saw whom the chest belonged to.

It was Logan Huntzberger.

"Oh, God, please pinch me and tell me this is a dream," she whimpered as she took a step back, not sure if the room had actually started spinning or if it was just her imagination.

Logan just smiled and put his hands on Rory's upper arms. "Rory, Rory…breathe," he instructed. "Inhale…okay, good, now exhale…."

Rory blinked as the college student swept around her feet. She had spilled on Logan, Logan was touching her, she might actually be dead, she'd have to check….

"Rory," Logan said, prompting her to look at his face. "It's okay. I'm going to go get some napkins and dry off. It's just a little champagne."

Numbly, Rory nodded, and Logan took some cloth napkins that another patron brought over to him. He carefully wiped his shirt, a formerly pristine-looking summery white button-down, and dabbed at the few wet flecks on his pants.

"See?" he said, after he'd finished cleaning himself up. "No harm, no foul."

Rory still couldn't help feeling awful. "Logan, I am so sorry, I should have been watching where I was going, I didn't mean to --"

"Rory," Logan interrupted gently, "I've already told you it's okay. Stop beating yourself up. It's not the end of the world."

Rory nodded. "Okay," she said, finally managing to get the word to budge from her lips.

"Good," Logan said, flashing his trademark smile, and Rory couldn't help but feel her knees weaken just a little. "Hey, don't forget to keep breathing."

To her surprise, he put his hand at her back and led her away from the incident, over by a strange tubular-looking sculpture. "So, tell me how you're doing. Be honest."

Rory took a deep breath and exhaled. Finally, everything was starting to come back into focus, and the patrons had gone back to milling about, looking at the other pieces of art. "I'm okay," she admitted.

"Good." Logan studied her face. "So, what brings you to this showing?"

"I'm friends with Lucy, the artist," Rory told him.

Logan looked impressed. "Really."

"Really." Rory eyed him curiously. "What brings _you_ to this showing?"

"I saw a flyer for it at work. It sounded cool, so I dragged Colin and Finn along with me with the promise that we'd hit the bars on the way home."

"Oh," Rory said, nodding shortly and feeling a little sheepish, given that she'd been the one to post the flyer in the first place. "So," she heard herself asking, "how's Peyton? Um, I mean, that girl you were seeing. I would have thought she'd be interested in something like this."

Logan sucked in a careful breath through his teeth. "Actually, Peyton's history."

"Really?" Rory asked, a little too swiftly.

"Yeah, you know, in Miami, she was just…I don't know, not that fun."

"Oh."

"Not that way," Logan said, catching on to Rory's tone. "I mean, she wasn't interesting. I couldn't really talk to her about anything that wasn't about where we were going to eat or what outfit she was going to wear."

"You didn't figure that out beforehand?" Rory was appalled at her bluntness, but Logan didn't seem to notice.

He shrugged. "I never spent that much time with her before we went. But I guess when you spend an entire weekend with someone, things start becoming clear."

Rory thought of Dean and nodded. "Uh-huh."

"So, are you here by yourself?" Logan asked, and something in his voice made Rory's heart skip a beat.

"Yeah," she replied.

"No Dean?"

"Dean's out of town for the weekend at a hockey tournament."

"Ah. That's too bad."

"Nah, I'm sure he's having a great time getting thrown in the penalty box."

"I bet he misses you, though."

Rory felt slightly uncomfortable. "He does. He's been sending a lot of texts."

Logan studied Rory's face, his brown eyes penetrating into her thoughts. "Are you happy with him?"

Rory's mind started racing at his words. "Of course I am," she said, feeling her face heat up.

"You should be with someone who makes you happy."

"I -- I am."

"Good, it's important."

They stared at each other a moment, and then Logan suddenly chuckled. "Wow, I got deep there for a minute. I don't know what happened. Don't let this get out, it could ruin my reputation."

Rory felt herself relaxing. She glanced over and saw Lucy smiling and walking toward her. "Hey, um, I should probably…" She gestured to Lucy.

"Oh, right, right," Logan said quickly.

Rory looked apologetically at his shirt. "I'm really sorry about your shirt. If you want, I can pay for dry cleaning."

Logan gave her a stern look. "Rory, we've been over this."

Rory nodded. "Okay, well, um, I guess I'll see you at work."

"Yeah, you will," Logan said, grinning. "Oh, and by the way, it was good talking to you. You were so quiet at the office this week, I was wondering if something was wrong."

Rory's mouth dropped open, but before she could say anything, he had already started walking back toward Colin and Finn.

"Hey, does Dean know about that hottie?" Lucy asked, slinging her arm around Rory's shoulders.

Rory just shook her head helplessly. "Oh, Lucy, it is a long story. You're going to think I'm terrible. Terrible with a side order of crazy."

Lucy shrugged. "Hey, we've got bottles and bottles of bubbly, and I'd love to escape from all these stuffy moneybags for a while. Come on, let's go talk."

**********

Lorelai glanced at her watch as she waded her way through the crowd on her return from the bathroom. It was inconceivable how, in a gathering that seemed to be at least 90 percent male, there could still be a line for the ladies' room. While she had been waiting in a line that moved more slowly than the continental drift, she had seen at least twenty different men walk in and out of the neighboring men's room. The injustices of Mother Nature knew no bounds.

As she returned, her thoughts drifted to the day so far. She had to admit that it had actually been a fun day. Christopher had recruited her to help him demo the games, which had translated into her standing there smiling while Christopher pushed buttons. She had enjoyed it, though, getting to see Christopher in action, interacting with vastly different types of people. He had handled each and every person with aplomb, and secretly she was proud of him and deeply impressed.

He was so different from Luke, she reflected. Luke was modern-day hermit, preferring solitude to the company of others. While he was fiercely loyal to the people he cared about, he really couldn't give two hoots about those he didn't, and although everyone in Stars Hollow dined at Luke's, she knew of more than a few people who were put off by his brusque manner.

Christopher, on the other hand, seemed to gain energy from being around people. He seemed endlessly curious and personable, affable almost to a fault. After five years of Luke and even more years of unresolved sexual tension, being around Christopher was like entering the twilight zone of personalities.

She thought about Rory's constant jabs at her about her feelings for Christopher. It was true that she could no longer honestly say that she only enjoyed Christopher's company for the sex. He had become a part of her life that she looked forward to, and no one seemed to get her crazy thought patterns the way he did. And the sex…well, that had only been getting better, and it had been pretty damn good to start with. But still… in those lone moments when she thought of the type of person she was meant to settle down with, the image of Luke was still the first thing that came to mind. Because deep down, underneath the layers of flannel and the crusty exterior, Luke was utterly dependable. He was grounded, and she'd never once failed to trust that he would drop everything to help her in any way she needed. That was why she had been able to care so deeply for him. Christopher was freer and more spontaneous. Whatever she felt for Christopher, it just wasn't the same and could never be. A tiny voice nagged at her, asking how she would break the news to Christopher when she finally did meet the right guy, but she ignored it. It wasn't an issue right now, so it didn't need addressing.

With those thoughts settled in her mind, she approached Christopher's booth, where Mike was handing out little Cro-Magnon figurines to a bunch of kids who had crowded around. Lorelai questioned whether the game was really appropriate for kids whose ages were still in the single digits, but the little boys were so enthralled with the idea of playing as a caveman, she couldn't begrudge the marketing _too_ much. Besides, given all the forbidden things she'd engaged in as a kid, she didn't have much of a leg to stand on.

She craned her neck, looking for Christopher, and finally located him standing off to the side, engaged in a conversation with somebody she couldn't see. Smiling, Lorelai decided to sneak up on him. She angled around to the side, but then slammed to a halt when she saw the person Christopher was talking to.

The person Christopher was talking to wasn't a man, or a college student, or a teen or even a kid. The person Christopher was talking to was a petite woman about Lorelai's age who, to Lorelai's astonishment, was wearing the exact same dress Lorelai had considered wearing to the expo. The woman had long, flowing, honey-colored hair that curled just so at the ends, big eyes fringed with dark lashes, and she looked nothing short of stunning in the dress that only made Lorelai look pretty. Lorelai immediately felt frumpy in her T-shirt and jeans and suddenly wondered if her butt looked half as cute in those jeans as she had previously thought.

Christopher said something to the woman, and the woman laughed, revealing two flawless rows of perfectly white teeth. Then she laid her hand on Christopher's arm, giving it a little rub, and Lorelai went from feeling her stomach dropping to experiencing an overwhelming desire to tear that woman's limbs off. A feral impulse ran red in her brain, shutting off any other rational thought, and she actually felt her fingers trembling as they flexed. Who was this woman, her brain screamed, and what was she doing putting her hands all over Christopher? Try as she might, she couldn't move her eyes from the woman's small hand on Christopher's arm, the image burned in her brain like a brand in leather.

Eventually, feeling trickled back into her body, and she shook herself, amazed at what had come over her. Without thinking, she stalked up to Christopher's side, just in time to catch the tail end of the woman's sentence.

"…I'd love to have you show me sometime," the woman said, smiling prettily at Christopher.

"Chris, hi!" Lorelai exclaimed brightly, coming up alongside Christopher and laying her hand on his bicep. "You know, the line to the bathroom was just a few blocks short of a mile? I don't know what it is, but I'm pretty sure there's some government conspiracy going on to make the line move as slowly as possible. Ooh, I know! It's subliminal messages pumped in through the tiles to hypnotize everyone into thinking they're moving through water." She took in Christopher's surprised and confused expression and then turned to the honey-blond woman. "Oh, hi! I didn't see you there. I'm sorry, am I interrupting?"

The woman looked taken aback by Lorelai, as if she'd been smacked in the face by a huge wave of water. "Uh…" she began, looking at Christopher for help.

Christopher placed a steadying hand at the small of Lorelai's back. "Sherry, this is my friend Lorelai. Lor, this is Sherry Tinsdale, the head of the organizing committee here at the convention center," he said evenly.

"Oh, so you're the one who put this nerd-o-rama together!" Lorelai exclaimed, reaching out and shaking Sherry's hand vigorously.

Sherry still looked like she had no idea what to do with Lorelai. "Uh, that's one way of putting it," she said tentatively.

"Sherry and I have been emailing back and forth for weeks, trying to get everything set up for our booth," Christopher explained.

"Is that right? Weeks? You've been emailing for weeks?"

"Not as much as you'd think," Sherry supplied. "I didn't have to contact Christopher nearly as much as some of these other people. He's just a dream to work with." Her admiring gaze didn't escape Lorelai's eagle eyes.

Lorelai turned to Christopher, an impressed expression on her face. "Oh, so you're a dream, huh? Maybe you need a new nickname. How about…we could call you Dreamy. Wait, that's it! You could be our McDreamy. I'm sure Sherry here would agree with me, right, Sherry?"

Sherry's mouth dropped open slightly, her cheeks reddening as she again looked to Christopher for help.

"Sherry, would you excuse us for a moment?" Christopher asked, his voice polite but tight.

"You go right ahead," Sherry said graciously. "You have my contact information."

"Huh? What? We were just getting to know each other," Lorelai protested as Christopher led her away by the arm. "Bye, Sherry!" she called over her shoulder.

When they were out of sight, Christopher finally let go of Lorelai. "Lorelai, what is going on?" he asked, sounding slightly exasperated.

"What's going on? Nothing's going on," Lorelai replied. "I was just making conversation and getting to know your new friend that I never knew you had."

"Lorelai, Sherry is a colleague. If it wasn't for her, we wouldn't have a booth at this expo. She put in a lot of hard work to make this happen."

"And I am not denying that. I mean, she seems great. I think she's great, and she obviously thinks you're great, so I don't think any of us are in disagreement here. Greatness is just abounding."

Christopher looked long and hard at Lorelai. "Lor," he said at length, "Sherry is someone I've been working with because I had to work with her. I actually only met her in person for the first time today. I don't know what's going on with you, but it's been a long day, and…maybe we should just call it quits for today."

"Chris, there is nothing going on with me. I'm being the same person you've always known. I mean, yes, I may come on a little strong at times, but that's just me. You know that."

Christopher pressed his thumb and forefinger to his forehead. "Okay, okay, I'm not going to argue this anymore --"

"I'm not arguing--"

"I think that maybe I shouldn't stop by tonight."

At his words, Lorelai stepped back. "Really?" she asked, her voice suddenly small.

"Maybe tomorrow. Just…I don't know, call me when you're feeling more like yourself."

He turned and walked back to his booth, leaving Lorelai staring after him, her mouth hanging slightly open.

************

"Well, well, well, missy, what have you got there?" Lorelai asked as Rory staggered into their apartment with an unwieldy sculpture that resembled a cactus, if a cactus were made out of polished floor tiles glued on to soup cans.

"It's my contribution to the arts for a year," Rory said, setting down the sculpture in a free space next to the television.

Lorelai got up and examined the cactus. "What is it supposed to be?"

"Well, Lucy says it's a representation of the human spirit, but I think it looks like stuff she pilfered from the recycling bin."

"Al Gore would not approve."

"So," Rory said, slipping out of her shoes and cardigan, "how was the expo?"

Lorelai suppressed a cringe. "Good, for the most part. I have geek cred now."

"See? I told you it wouldn't be that bad."

"It wasn't…except for the part where Chris flipped out on me."

Rory disappeared into her room. "He flipped out on you?" she called.

"Well, I may have contributed to it," Lorelai admitted. "There was this girl who was throwing herself at him, and I was trying to get to know her, and he didn't seem to approve."

Rory poked her head out of her bedroom. "And that's what really happened?"

"Oh, come on, not you, too."

"Well…."

"What?"

Rory came back out of her bedroom, now dressed in loose-fitting pajamas. "I know you, Gilmore."

Lorelai sighed. "I probably screwed up, didn't I?"

"Take out the 'probably' and I'll agree with you."

************

Standing in her camisole in her room, Lorelai took a breath and dialed Christopher's number. After a couple of rings, he picked up.

"Lor?" he asked.

"Hi, Chris," she said. "Look," she continued before he could say anything, "I shouldn't -- I overreacted this afternoon." She squeezed her eyes shut. "I'm sorry."

After a pause, Christopher responded. "It's okay, Lor. I think I know where it was coming from."

Lorelai was surprised. "You do?"

"Yeah, I think I do."

Lorelai bit her lip. "Well, so…maybe we can get together tomorrow night?"

"Actually, I was thinking --"

"You were?" Lorelai interrupted, feeling a seed of trepidation settle in her stomach.

"I was thinking, and…I'm actually standing outside your building right now."

Lorelai rushed to her window and looked down at the sidewalk. Sure enough, there was Christopher, standing with his phone to his ear.

"I didn't want to go to bed without talking to you," he said.

"Come on up," Lorelai said, feeling her heart rate accelerate, but with a wonderful warmth.

A few minutes later, Lorelai opened the door, and Christopher entered. He gazed into her eyes for a few seconds, and then crushed his lips to hers. Electricity shot through Lorelai's entire body as he slid his tongue inside her mouth, and then she was climbing his body, wrapping her legs around his waist, pressing as close as she could to him. His arms curled around her, and he carried her to her room, shutting the door behind them.


	10. Hello Motorcycle

**CHAPTER 10 - HELLO MOTO(RCYCLE)**

Monday afternoon found Lorelai sitting across from Christopher at a trendy coffee bar that wasn't too far from either of their offices. Christopher had called up Lorelai a half an hour earlier, asking her to meet him because he needed a break from what he called _newbies_, the latest round of beta testing hires who wouldn't stop pestering him with questions. Glad for an excuse to escape the office, and along with it Colin and Finn's whining, Lorelai had agreed. Christopher had sneakily paid for Lorelai's coffee while she had been rummaging around in her purse for her wallet. He then had refused to accept any compensation and hinted that Lorelai could repay him in other ways. Lorelai had feigned shock and told him that he was no gentleman, and Christopher had responded that that was why she liked him. She hadn't been able to offer a very convincing protest to that.

At the moment, Christopher was talking, but Lorelai wasn't listening. She was too distracted by his presence to. The soft green of his shirt that made his skin glow, the way the waves in his hair lay just so, the faint traces of that cologne that always made her want to be alone with him… Individually they were formidable, but all together they were nearly crippling.

She collected herself and refocused on his words.

"…such a huge success that they're giving me next Friday off," he was saying. "I guess they thought it was cheaper than awarding a bonus check."

Lorelai nodded, but, not having listened to the first half of the sentence, she had little idea of what he was talking about. She tried to find a neutral part of him to focus on, like his hands -- but then she recalled what his hands had done when he had come over on Saturday night. _That_ had definitely not been neutral.

She felt her face warm at the memory, and then she felt silly for blushing. How was it that she could be reacting this way to Christopher? How long had she known him? How many times had she seen him undressed? And yet she found herself behaving now, of all times, like he was a high school crush. What had happened to the cool, collected Lorelai who had set up rules and had scrupulously kept them (well, most of them…some of them…okay, there were only one or two still unbroken -- but the _spirit_ of the rules lived on! she silently insisted) and replaced her with a giddy nitwit whose brain went wonky in Christopher's presence?

She tried to make sense of it. Nothing about him had changed. He looked the same, sounded the same, related to her the same. And yet…she felt in her gut that something between them _was_ different.

She again reviewed the events of Saturday night. There had definitely been fireworks -- under the circumstances, how could there not have been? -- but had those fireworks been greater than usual? She guiltily noted that it had been three in the morning when Christopher had finally slipped out of bed and gotten dressed. She still had no idea how the time could have gone by so quickly; she remembered trading stories about their messed-up childhoods, but had they really lost track of time so badly? Even more guiltily she noted that she had felt a sharp pang of disappointment when Christopher had left. And she couldn't deny that despite Christopher's insistence that his relationship with Sherry Tinsdale was strictly professional, Lorelai was certain that if she never saw Sherry again, it wouldn't be soon enough. That woman was trouble, Lorelai could just feel it.

Still, it was ridiculous, everything. It was probably just one of her weird phases, like when she'd lost her mind and secretly nursed a crush on Matthew McConaughey for a few weeks. And that had been after the naked bongo drum-playing (but before all the shirtless pictures with Lance Armstrong). _Maybe it's hormones_, she told herself. _You can always blame hormones._ "Exactly," she said aloud.

Christopher paused and raised an eyebrow. "Huh?" he asked, looking confused.

Lorelai furrowed her brows. "What?"

Christopher gave her a look. "I said, 'So, what are your plans for this weekend?' and you said, 'Exactly.'"

"Oh! Sorry, I think I spaced for a second," Lorelai said quickly, covering for her daydreaming. She looked down at her coffee cup with disdain. "You're not doing your job," she scolded it.

Christopher chuckled. "You got an enormous, extra black coffee that looks like sludge and it's still not doing the trick? I don't know whether to take this as additional proof that you do indeed have a problem or to ask for my money back."

Lorelai's mouth dropped open. "I do not have a problem!"

"Lor, you have a problem."

"I do not have a problem. Problems come in flasks or are shaped like little white sticks and have a cartoon camel in their ads. Coffee, on the other hand, comes in delightful mugs and cute paper cups with adorable lids! Coffee is the furthest thing from a problem."

Christopher gave a solemn nod. "I bet you can quit any time you want, right?"

"It's not even a question."

"So if I reached out and took this cup away from you, you wouldn't have a problem with it."

"None whatsoever. Not that I want you to take it away from me right _now_," Lorelai added quickly as she saw Christopher's hand moving toward her cup.

Christopher grinned. "Thought so," he said with a playful smirk.

Lorelai shot him a look and took another sip of her coffee.

"So, about this weekend," Christopher said, returning to his original point. "Are you free on Friday night?"

Lorelai raised an eyebrow. "Are you making plans in advance? This is new." Usually they just texted or called when the mood struck (which, admittedly, was frequently, so there was little point in making advance plans).

"Well, I would like to take up more of your time than usual," Christopher explained.

"Is that so, Marathon Man?"

"I happen to have two tickets to the classic film festival at NYU this weekend. Friday night they're showing comedies from the thirties. Lots of Clark Gable and Cary Grant. I thought it sounded right up your alley."

"I like the way you think."

"So what do you say? Are you up for some Capra magic on Friday?"

"I am."

Christopher beamed, looking very happy at her answer. "Great," he said, sounding almost relieved, "I'll, uh, I'll swing by your place at seven, and we can head on over from there."

"You're picking me up? Are we taking your skateboard?"

Christopher laughed. "I have another means of transportation in mind."

"A scooter?"

"Be patient. You'll see."

Lorelai stuck out her lip. "You know I'm no good at waiting."

"Sorry, friend."

Christopher's cell phone buzzed with an incoming text message, and Christopher frowned as he read it. "The newbies are running the asylum," he told Lorelai apologetically. "I've got to get back."

Lorelai nodded and sighed. "Yeah, I should get back, too. Colin and Finn could be coloring on the walls again."

They gathered up their things and walked to the door.

"Thanks for meeting me," Christopher said.

"Thanks for inviting me," Lorelai responded.

They smiled at each other for a second, and then Christopher bent his head to give Lorelai a quick kiss. She couldn't resist going back for another, and for the rest of the afternoon, she could feel the tingle that his lips left on hers.

************

It seemed to Rory that her love life and professional life were never on the same trajectory. When work was stressing her out, things were great with Dean. When Dean was bothering her, work was a safe haven. Right now, she was on the latter end of the spectrum.

She knew what was bugging her: her upcoming weekend trip with Dean. When she'd initially agreed to it, it had seemed more theoretical. Now, with Dean constantly mentioning how much he was looking forward to it and the date imminent, it seemed far too real.

It was the first time that they were going away together, so it made sense that she was feeling a little trepidation, she reasoned. This was a big step in their relationship. It was taking things to the next level, a place of greater trust and intimacy. It was the right direction. It made sense.

Then why did she feel as though there were lead in her stomach whenever she thought about it?

Sitting at her desk, she buried her face in her arms and groaned. Only she would have a problem like this. There must be something defective in her DNA.

Making her feel even worse, Dean had been nothing less than a prince since returning from his weekend tournament. He had called her the instant he'd arrived back, and she'd felt obligated to go over to his apartment and spend time with him. Not that she'd had a bad time: they'd watched three straight hours of BBC America and tried to talk with cockney accents for the rest of the day. But when Dean's arms stole around her waist, she'd felt as though a tiny match, not a roaring fire, had been lit.

"I hope that's not a nap you're taking. You need a promotion for that," Logan Huntzberger's voice said too closely to her ear.

With a yelp, Rory shot straight up in her chair. The back of her head smacked into something hard, and she heard a cry of pain. Rubbing the back of her head and wincing, she turned around to see Logan grimacing with his hand held to his forehead.

"Oh, God," Rory cried. Apparently, she was so coordinated that within the span of less than a week, she had not only spilled champagne all over Logan Huntzberger, she'd followed it up by splitting his head open.

Logan put a hand up. "No," he said, eyes still squeezed shut, "it's my fault, all my fault. Don't blame yourself. This'll teach me to stop thinking I'm clever." He winced. "Well, it probably won't, but it should."

Rory looked on in dismay as Logan took his hand off his forehead and blinked a few times. "Wow, you cracked me good," he quipped, raising his fingers to his forehead and touching it gently.

"Do you need ice?" Rory asked miserably. She wondered if bodily harm was the kind of thing you could get fired over. If she were Logan, she'd definitely have fired herself by now, or at least be strongly considering it.

Logan shook his head. "No." Then he blinked a few more times and grimaced. "Yes. Excuse me."

He turned on his heel and headed for the office kitchenette, and Rory rushed to follow him. She didn't know how she could help him, but at least she could show him how sorry she was by being there. That is, unless he didn't want to see her as a painful reminder of his, er, pain. She weighed her options for a split second. Better to risk it.

Logan threw open the freezer door and rummaged through it, shoving aside various outdated freezer bags whose contents were unidentifiable. Finally, he found a bag of frozen peas, which he pressed to his forehead. He shuffled over to the round table and sank into a chair.

Rory pulled out another chair and sat down next to him. From under the bag of peas, he eyed her. "You didn't have to follow me," he said, sounding slightly amused.

"I'm so sorry, Logan."

"Don't be. Stuff happens. Life goes on."

"Between the art exhibit and today, I guess I really know how to make an impression."

Logan cracked a small grin. "Believe me, your impression was already made long before either of those incidents."

Rory's eyes widened. "It was?"

"It was." Logan switched to his other hand to hold up the peas. "When I first came here, you were the only person who didn't look at me like I had no business being here, much less be in the position I'm in."

"Oh." Rory thought back to those early days. Tongues had definitely been wagging, and not a few out of spite and jealousy. It was a little surprising to hear Logan make an admission like that; for some reason, she had always imagined him impervious to the chatter of others. _And he noticed you,_ her mind whispered, sending a little shiver up her spine.

"So the way I see it, a little champagne and a knock to the skull are nothing. It meant a lot to me in those early days that there was at least one person who didn't think I was a colossal joke. Of course," Logan added wryly, "it only made me feel even more undeserving when I realized how talented you were."

Rory looked down at her hands to hide the flush that was rapidly working its way up her face. "Thank you."

Logan smiled. "You're a little intimidating, you know that?"

"Me?" Rory wondered if the surprising revelations would never end.

"You're not like most of the girls -- most of the people I know. You seem like you actually give a damn. For someone like me, that's kind of scary." Seeing her expression, he quickly added, "But it's good to be scared sometimes. God knows I need it."

Rory sat silently, trying to make sense of everything Logan had just said. How could this moment be happening? Moments like this didn't happen to her. She wasn't the kind of girl that people, much less Logan Huntzberger, said these things to. All this time she had thought she was barely a blip on his radar…why was he making this confession now? She must have hit him harder than she'd thought, she concluded, as his actions over the past months started to take on a different light -- a light she wasn't quite sure she was prepared to see.

Logan switched hands again, and the peas rattled around inside the plastic bag. He looked at her, his eyes searching hers as though trying to discern whether he'd spilled too much. "You look kind of shocked," he said wryly.

Rory realized her jaw was hanging slackly and quickly closed it. "Well, you caught me off guard," she hastily responded. "I wasn't expecting you to say, um, most of what you said."

"You want me to take it back? I don't normally rescind compliments, but I can make an exception in your case."

"No!" Rory exclaimed, feeling her face flush again at her eagerness. "No, no, it's fine. I just didn't think…." She realized where her sentence was going, and quickly stopped.

Logan studied her eyes, as though looking for something in them. "You didn't think what?"

Rory took a breath. "I'm just a junior copywriter, and you, well, you're…."

"Oh, I see. You think I'm too important to notice you? Is that what you think?"

"No -- maybe -- it's just…"

"Rory, I'm not my father," Logan said gently, but underneath his words was a trace of bitterness. "I notice it when people make me look good. And you always make me look good. I mean it when I say you're talented."

"Well, I try to do my best."

"You're talented."

"Logan…"

"Don't make me say it again, or I'll think you're fishing for compliments."

"You're talented, too," Rory heard herself saying. "You are, I've seen it, I saw you help Colin and Finn in the restaurant that night. You're good at this, too."

Logan flashed a wry grin. "Are we a mutual admiration society now?"

"I…." Rory wondered how it was possible that he could make her so tongue-tied so often.

Logan removed the peas from his forehead. "It's okay, I think it's a good thing. Going into the lion's den every day, it's good to have an angel at your side."

His words only made more heat flow to Rory's face, but Logan didn't seem to notice. He was silent for a moment, his fingers playing with the bag of peas now lying on the table top. "Actually," he said at length, "since we're on the subject of your talent, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

"There's a something?"

"There's a something." Logan looked Rory in the eyes. "How would you feel about taking on a side project? You'd have wide discretion on the direction you wanted to take it in and all the resources you wanted. Just so you know, it would also require some overtime, most likely."

Rory furrowed her brows. "What kind of project is this?"

"A few days ago I met an old college buddy for lunch because he was in the city on a business trip. It turns out he's got major connections to one of the hottest up-and-coming tech gadget companies around, and he told me they're looking to freshen their image as they prepare to roll out their new phone that apparently can do everything except brush your teeth."

"Wow."

"That's what I said. So I told him that we could prepare a pitch and see if he liked it. The only thing is, now I've got to come up with a pitch. That's where you come in."

The idea sounded very tempting, and Rory felt acceptance creeping closer to her lips until a question stopped her. "But why a side project? Isn't this something for a team?"

"Normally it would be. But the problem is that my grandfather and the dad of the owner of this company have a feud going back to their Yale days, which means that my dad and the owner have to keep up the feud, which means that bringing up the idea to my dad to pitch to this company would get rejected flat out. But this company is the future of tech gadgets, all the tech magazines are saying it, and if my father knew how much money we could make, he would be singing a different tune. There's nothing like a few greenbacks to make my father see things differently.

"So basically, I want to keep this project low profile until we've definitely got it, and in order to do that, I need to keep as few people involved as possible."

"So you're turning to me. Just me."

"I think you're up to the challenge. Are you?"

Rory bit her lower lip thoughtfully. What Logan was proposing sounded like a lot of extra work. Extra research, more responsibility, more time, and she already felt like her plate was pretty full. But at the same time, the idea of having so much creative control was incredibly tempting. When did junior copywriters ever have that kind of latitude? Under a normal promotion scenario, she would have to wait at least three or four more years to get even a taste of that degree of creative control. Yet here was Logan, handing it to her on a platter.

_It's now or never_, her mind told her. _Take a risk, see what happens_.

_You'll never know unless you try._

"Yes," she said, "I am."

A wide grin spread across Logan's face, and Rory once again felt the power of his golden charisma. "I love it when I make an offer someone can't refuse. You won't regret it, I promise," he said.

He leaned closer to her. "We're going to get this job, Rory. With you and me working together, there's no way we can lose."

************

"It's a secret project?" Dean asked, giving Rory a skeptical look as he twirled spaghetti around his fork.

"Well, I guess technically it's a secret," Rory admitted, sitting across from him at their favorite little Italian hole-in-the-wall, "but the work is totally legit. Logan gave me all these binders with the company profile in them. Would you believe they've only been around since 2001?"

At the mention of Logan's name, Dean bristled. "Yeah, that's amazing," he said, sounding less than amused.

"It is," Rory said, trying to hide her irritation at Dean's change of mood. "The company is young, ambitious, and the technology they're coming up with just blows my mind. Logan was right when he said that this new do-hickey can do everything but brush your teeth."

"It sounds like Logan is really on top of things."

Rory nodded. "He is. It's impressive, really. I know it sounds hard to believe, given everything we know about him, but I think there's actually a future CEO inside of him. I guess it must have been dormant all this time, but for some reason it's come to life. It's like he's a plant, and he just needed the right combination of water and sunlight to start growing."

"Let me guess: you're the sunlight."

Rory was taken aback by the sarcasm in Dean's voice. "I'm not anything," she said.

Dean set his fork down. "You really think you're nothing to this guy?"

"I think I'm his employee. I think I'm doing something good for my career. Is that okay with you?"

"I just don't see why you have to be working so closely with him."

"Dean, what am I supposed to do? He's my boss. He's in charge of this project."

"Perfect setup, isn't it?"

"Could you please tell me what you're talking about?"

Dean shook his head. "I just don't get how you don't see it," he said.

"Don't see what?"

"He's after you, Rory. He wants to make you another notch on his belt, and the fact that you have a boyfriend probably just makes it all the more exciting for him. You told me yourself that he goes through women like Kleenex and that he's slept with half the support staff."

Rory felt a rush of fresh anger at his insinuation. "Dean, you know that I would never cross that line."

"I never said you would."

"You might as well have said it. Even though there's no proof that he's after me, even though he has made exactly zero sexual or romantic overtures to me, even if he were, do you think I'm that brainless and that disloyal? Why are you so jealous?"

"Rory, if you were a man, you'd see what I've seen from the very beginning with this guy."

"Well, I'm short a Y chromosome, so why don't you explain it?"

"I think I've made my self pretty clear."

"Oh, sure, crystal."

"Do you want me to write out a script for you? You've read a lot of books, Rory. You should know how this story is going to go."

They glared at each other, eyes blazing, until finally the fire faded from Dean's eyes. He pressed his fingers to his brow and shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said, sounding weary. "I don't want to fight with you. We're going away this weekend. I want it to be a good time."

Rory sighed. "Me, too," she said quietly.

Dean drew a long breath. "If it's good for your career and it's what you want to do, then I'm happy for you. I'm behind you. I am. One hundred percent."

"I know."

They picked up their forks again, and for a few moments, the only sound was the clinking of metal against ceramic plates.

"So, how about those Yankees?" Dean asked.

"What sport is that again?"

Gradually, normal conversation returned, and they were able to start a discussion about Christian Bale's Batman voice. On the surface it felt normal, cordial, but Rory sensed a coolness between them that hadn't been there before, and she couldn't shake the feeling that maybe it would have been better to let their fight reach its peak. By agreeing to be civil, had they merely postponed the inevitable? She and Logan were going to be spending time together, a lot more time together than in the past, and she'd be lying to herself if she said the idea didn't excite her. There was something fascinating, something vital about him that charged the air around him.

She looked at Dean, who was nattering on about Heath Ledger, and her heart melted slightly. He did care about her a lot.

_This weekend will put things back in order,_ her rational side reassured her.

She would find a way. She had to.

************

On Friday night, the theater lobby at NYU was bustling with people when Lorelai and Christopher arrived. Or, rather, it was bustling with couples. As Lorelai looked around, all she could see were pairs holding hands or with their arms around each other. Some couples looked relaxed and comfortable with each other, like old gloves, while others looked nervous and tentative -- victims of first-date jitters. Lorelai sympathized with them as she overheard snippets of awkward small talk between girls who were self-consciously overdressed and guys wearing too much cologne.

She cast a glance at Christopher, who was showing the attendant their tickets, and smiled. He looked casual and relaxed, and Lorelai was glad that he had asked her to come with him. He'd already made her night by picking her up on a motorcycle -- _his_ motorcycle, he'd informed her, that had been in storage in California until a few days ago. Lorelai hadn't been able to keep the grin off her face as they'd weaved through the Manhattan traffic, easily bypassing stalled cars in the sluggish traffic. Trinity and the Keymaker had nothing on them.

They entered the auditorium, and Lorelai's heart skipped a beat as she felt Christopher's hand press gently against the small of her back.

"What do you think, do we go left or right?" Christopher asked.

Lorelai scanned the crowd. Despite their arriving reasonably early, most of the middle was already taken up. A few seconds later, she was able to spot two seats on the side. "Follow me," she said, and her heart skipped another beat as Christopher's hand stayed pressed to her back as they made their way down the aisle. It was funny how it was often the smallest touches that made her the most aware.

They settled into their seats, and Christopher grinned as Lorelai situated herself, twisting and wriggling until she had found the ultimate position.

"What?" she asked, noticing his gaze.

"I've never seen anyone that dedicated to comfort."

His words reminded Lorelai that they had never been out to the movies together, so this was his first time seeing her in this setting. Somehow it seemed impossible that this was the case; up until now, it had felt like they'd been doing this their entire lives.

"Chris, I'm a professional moviegoer. Years of experience have taught me that my viewing will be enhanced tenfold if I am properly aligned."

"I've never heard anyone call it 'alignment,' either."

"Well, don't come crying to me when you're in the middle of a _Dances With Wolves-Braveheart_ marathon, and you peter out before Kevin Costner can utter the word _tatonka_."

Christopher reached inside his jacket and produced a box of Red Vines from one pocket and a box of Junior Mints from the other. "I didn't know what you liked better, so I got both."

"Oh, Chris, you didn't have to," Lorelai protested, nevertheless reaching for the Red Vines.

"I wanted to. Plus, I'm a big fan of Junior Mints, so I'm glad you took the Red Vines."

"We're yin and yang."

"I was going to say chocolate and peanut butter."

Lorelai found herself caught in Christopher's gaze, and something in his expression made her have to glance away. "I can't believe how packed it is," she commented, feeling a tiny wave of relief, though she wasn't sure why. "The movie doesn't start for another twenty minutes, and people are already having to take the crappy seats up front."

"Believe it or not, I heard this rumor that not everybody wants to spend thirty bucks to eat overpriced popcorn and watch giant robots beat the crap out of each other."

"A likely story. I bet the next thing you'll try to tell me is that not everybody likes music that's been pulverized with the Auto-Tuner. Good luck with that."

Christopher chuckled, then turned more serious. "I'm glad you came tonight, Lor. I'm glad you're here."

"I'm glad to be here. I commend you on your excellent taste."

"Did I tell you how great you look tonight?"

"I noticed the drool in the corner of your mouth."

"Did I tell you I really like spending time with you?"

Lorelai felt a flutter in her stomach. "Well, you spend time very well," she said coyly.

Christopher gave a small, almost sheepish laugh. "I…Thanks, but I kind of meant something else…" he began, as though the words gave him some difficulty. "Not that what we do isn't -- what we've done…" He took a breath. "Lor, I think I'm…"

Before Christopher had a chance to finish his sentence, the lights went down. The audience began to applaud enthusiastically, and Lorelai squeezed Christopher's arm excitedly. "Hold that thought," she said. A second later, the screen lit up with the opening credits of _It Happened One Night_.

As the classic music blared over the speakers, Lorelai found herself quickly caught up in a world of stunning heiresses and dashing reporters capable of volleying snappy, vibrant dialogue without breaking a sweat. _They don't make them like this anymore,_ she thought wistfully.

She had almost completely forgotten Christopher sitting beside her until she felt a large, warm hand envelop hers. Her heart stopped for a second, and she glanced at Christopher, who was looking straight ahead at the screen. She looked down in her lap, her heart rate resumed at a thousand times its regular speed, as Christopher's hand grasped hers with more pressure.

A hundred different thoughts raced through Lorelai's mind as every nerve in her hand (and some elsewhere) responded to Christopher's touch. The quivers in her stomach, the clamminess of her palm, the jackrabbit beat of her heart...she shouldn't have been feeling those things, yet there they were. His thumb rubbed back and forth over her knuckles, and she started to feel hot and cold at the same time. She shifted slightly in her seat, trying to refocus on the movie, but her concentration was shot.

He was holding her hand. Why was he holding her hand? They didn't hold hands. What was he thinking? What was _she_ thinking? Why was she shaking on the inside? Did he know that he was making her crazy? Did she want to be crazy? She felt awful. She felt ecstatic. It was distracting and invasive and amazing and --

"I'll be right back," she whispered to him, pulling her hand away and standing up.

He gave her a surprised look, but she slid by him and zoomed up the aisle, out to the foyer.

************

The bright lights of the foyer made Lorelai squint as her eyes adjusted to the light. She located a sign for the ladies' room and headed in there.

After emerging from a stall, she went to the sink to wash her hands and examine her hair. Under the sallow, unromantic glow of the fluorescent lights, Lorelai felt her heart rate return to normal.

What had happened back in the theater? It was almost as if she'd had a mini-panic attack, and all from Christopher's hand on hers.

He had never held her hand before, not like that. But that was because they weren't romantic…were they? Of course they weren't romantic. That wasn't why they were together.

She'd overreacted, and she wished she hadn't. It was _Christopher_. They were friends…who had sex…and were friends. Maybe hand-holding was a part of it; how was she supposed to know? She just hadn't been prepared for it, that was all. She'd mistakenly interpreted it as far more intimate than it probably was. That had to be the reason. Or maybe it was a side effect of all the strange feelings she'd been dealing with lately where Christopher was concerned.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror. It was too difficult to try to explain things, she decided. _Things will eventually go back to normal. That's all I want._

Lorelai finished smoothing her hair and headed back to the foyer.

A lone couple stood at the concession stand, pointing at an item at the menu. They were either extremely late to the movie, or they must really have wanted overpriced popcorn, Lorelai found herself thinking, when the man happened to look up and make eye contact with her. His eyes widened in recognition, and he said something to the woman he was with before walking briskly in Lorelai's direction.

"Lorelai Gilmore," he said in wonderment as he neared her, and Lorelai realized that he was Rory's old professor, Max Medina. She felt a twinge of guilt as she remembered that she had tossed his business card in the small mountain of papers on her desk and never given it a second thought.

"Max," Lorelai said, pasting on a bright smile. "We meet again."

Max took a moment to drink Lorelai in with his eyes. "My God, how is it possible that you're even more gorgeous than I remember?"

Lorelai laughed in spite of the obvious flattery. "Uh, you probably didn't take your ginko biloba that day," she suggested.

"Hey, Max, I'm going in," Max's date called, now clutching a large tub of popcorn.

"Okay, I'll look for you," Max replied, waving her on.

Lorelai gave Max a strange look. "Call me crazy, but shouldn't you be getting back to your date?"

Max laughed. "She's my sister," he said. "Visiting from Ohio this week."

Lorelai narrowed her eyes. "A likely story."

Max held up a hand. "Scout's honor. You can go ask her if you want."

"No, I believe you. Mostly."

Max laughed again. "I can live with that." He gave Lorelai another once-over. "My God," he muttered, shaking his head slightly.

He was appealing shamelessly to her vanity, and Lorelai knew it, but she still couldn't help but feel flattered by his compliments. He was a handsome man, something that seemed more obvious here in the foyer than at that crowded bookstore where they had first met, and Lorelai had always had a weakness for compliments from handsome men. Men in general, really, but all the better if they were good-looking.

Max offered her a hopeful smile. "Please tell me I have the incredibly good luck to find you here alone. It would do a lot to mitigate the loneliness I felt these past weeks when you never called me," he added with a teasing note in his voice.

For the first time since Lorelai had spotted Max, she remembered Christopher. "Oh, I'm sorry," she offered apologetically. "I'm here with someone."

"A date?"

"A --" What _was_ Christopher? In a split second, Lorelai thought of the warmth of his hand on hers, the feeling she got in her stomach when he looked at her a certain way, the motorcycle ride to the theater, the way his lips felt on her neck. "A friend," she answered.

"Just a friend?"

"I'm -- I'm trying to figure that out," Lorelai said, surprised at the admission.

"Ah," Max said, sounding a little disappointed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a clip. He removed a business card and pressed it into her palm. "It didn't work the last time, but I am an optimist. Hope springs eternal." He looked into her eyes. "My original offer still stands."

He turned and headed into the auditorium. Lorelai watched him, then turned over the card in her hand with a sigh.

************

Christopher moved his legs aside to let Lorelai back into her seat. "Hey, are you okay?" he whispered, gently touching her arm.

"I'm fine," Lorelai whispered back.

"You were gone a long time."

"I ran into someone in the lobby."

"Oh."

"Just someone I met a while back, nothing major." Lorelai paused. "It was that guy from the bookstore, Rory's professor."

"Oh…okay."

Lorelai glanced at the movie screen. "Did I miss anything?"

"I think there's a bigger show in front of us than up there," Christopher said, nodding in the direction of the row in front of them.

Two people were voraciously making out, complete with loud smacking sounds. At least, Lorelai assumed it was two people; otherwise, it was a new species that had a lot of hair, no face, and apparently no need for oxygen.

She turned back to Christopher. "That is impressive."

"I think they may have gills."

"Or they could be Snorks."

Christopher raised his hand to his mouth and coughed loudly.

Lorelai giggled silently as Christopher waited for the couple to notice. They didn't.

Christopher gave another loud cough, this time even more obviously.

The couple still refused to notice, and Lorelai began wondering how they could survive for so long with so little oxygen.

Christopher coughed again and kicked the seat in front of him with his foot.

Immediately, the guy in front of them whipped around and hissed, "Hey, man, I'm trying to watch the movie!"

"Yeah, we're trying to watch the movie!" his date added.

"Babe, people are so rude," Lorelai heard the guy mutter before they went right back to making out.

Lorelai clapped her hand over her mouth to hide her laughter. She glanced at Christopher and found him doing the same.

"Hold on, I've got an idea," he said when he got his breath back.

Lorelai watched him lean forward and tap the guy on the shoulder. The guy's reaction was hostile at first, but within a couple of seconds, he was nodding.

"You mean it?" the guy asked, sounding incredulous.

"I mean it," Christopher replied, giving him a manly slap on the shoulder.

"Thanks, man," the guy said.

To Lorelai's great surprise, the guy and the girl got up and left, and the theater felt eerily still in their absence.

"What did you say to him?" she asked Christopher.

"I'll tell you later."

"Come on, really. What did you say?"

"You doubt my skills as a negotiator?"

"Chris."

"Well, it's not so much what I said to him as what Benjamin Franklin said to him," Christopher finally confessed.

For a moment, Lorelai didn't get it, and then her eyes widened as the truth dawned on her. "You paid that guy off?"

"It was for the greater good."

"You paid that guy off."

"I wanted to enjoy the rest of the movie with you, Lor."

Something in his tone made her quiet and the butterflies return. "Superhero," she whispered.

He touched her cheek, and then his lips were on hers. She responded to his kiss as an intoxicating warmth flowed through her. How was it, her mind distantly wondered, that a kiss could instantly settle all of her confusion?

She leaned her head on his shoulder and let herself be reabsorbed into the film. As the rapid-fire romance played out, Christopher's arm curled gently around her, his fingertips softly rubbing against her skin.

************

Rory sat on the couch, her eyes focused at a blank spot on the wall. It was silent in the apartment; Lorelai was away on her not-date with Christopher, and Rory had found herself wanting silence rather than the chatter of the television as background noise. Only the occasional sounds of neighbors in the hallway interrupted the peace. A few feet away, her weekend bag sat packed and ready to go by the door.

Dean had already texted her that he was on his way, so she knew that it would only be a few minutes before he arrived. Each minute, however, seemed to weigh on her like a heavy stone.

_You're going,_ she reminded herself silently. _You're going, and you're going to have fun._

Exhaling a soft sigh, she glanced at the pile of folders lying on the coffee table -- folders of the data and notes she'd collected so far for Logan's secret project.

The few days since Logan had recruited her to help him had flown by at a breakneck pace. If the hours had merely been longer, that would have been one thing, but Rory barely had enough free space in her brain to remember her own name. And yet, despite the chaos that had descended on her usually meticulous time management, she had never found herself feeling more engaged by work. Ideas bloomed in her head as she sat at her desk, even when she was working on her regular assignments (like the really boring fiber-enriched wheat crackers that needed to be targeted to senior citizens).

_Logan…_

Her mind slipped back to him more often than she wished, even though she now had a legitimate reason for it. He had begun to stop by her cubicle each day, ostensibly to talk about their project in veiled terms, but she had also found herself captivated by his unpredictable off-hand remarks. He had a dry, subtle wit that revealed a mind far sharper and more seasoned than his reputation suggested. She'd suspected this for a while, but the firsthand evidence of it was extremely gratifying.

She pushed away her thoughts about him once again. She needed to focus on the project, not on the person running it. The path of daydreaming was not nearly so shrouded in fog that she couldn't see where it led to -- and that was a destination she could not afford to reach. But reining in those impulses was much easier said than done, as evidenced by the way she had repeatedly found herself watching for the top of his blond head nearing her cubicle….

There was a loud knock on the door, and Rory shook herself from her thoughts.

"Dean," she said, opening the door.

He stepped inside, his hands shoved into his pockets. For someone who had been so excited about going away, he seemed oddly subdued.

"Hey," Rory said, pasting on a smile, "why the Droopy Dog face? I thought you had a countdown for this."

Dean managed a weak smile. "Rory, can we talk?"

Rory frowned. "Okay."

They walked over to the couch and sat down. For a long moment, Dean said nothing, and Rory started to become concerned. It wasn't like Dean to be so quiet.

At last he spoke. "I double-parked out front," he said, his voice strangely flat. "I wanted to be close to the door so I could just throw your bag in the back seat and we could take off as fast as possible. It's a good drive, lots of trees, some lakes. Peaceful, really peaceful. The roads kind of wind around and there are only two lanes in a lot of spots.

"I wanted to take you there, Rory. It's a gorgeous area. I know you can't stand being outdoors, but you would have liked it. I know you would have."

Rory blinked at Dean. "Would have? Dean, what are you talking about?"

Dean's eyes were wry as he turned his head. "Rory, you never wanted to go. I don't want to make you go."

"Hey, I never said I didn't want to! I packed for it, I planned for it. My bag's right over there, see it? What matters is that we're going to be together."

Dean looked at Rory, his eyes searching her face. "Rory, when was the last time we talked on the phone?"

Rory blanched. Her mind raced rapidly, trying to retrace the phone calls she'd taken over the past few days. She'd been so busy, she hadn't even realized that she and Dean hadn't spoken in days.

"Well, I've been really busy," she offered, her tone openly acknowledging the lameness of her excuse. "You know I've been busy."

"Yeah," Dean said, and Rory could hear the acid in his voice. "I know."

"I should have called."

"No, I think it's been good," Dean said. "It gave me a chance to think. I've been thinking a lot these past few days."

"And what have you been thinking?" Rory asked, not sure if she really wanted to know.

"Rory, you're the most important thing in my life. Am I the most important thing in yours?"

And there it was. "Dean, that's such a question," she said, trying to hedge. "I -- you know you're important to me."

Dean gave a wry little laugh. "Let me put it this way: if you had to choose me or your job, which one would you pick? I won't say you-know-who's name because I don't want to be accused of prejudice," he added sarcastically.

Rory felt her heart plummet. "Don't, Dean. Please don't."

He laughed again. "I know, not exactly Sophie's choice, is it? See, for a long time, I thought, _I'm running behind this girl, but I can catch up._ I thought that eventually, you'd see me, and we could run side-by-side. But lately, Rory, lately…when we were out the other night, and we argued…and I saw the fire you had in your eyes…I knew I would always be chasing you."

Rory felt frozen to her seat. "Dean…what are you saying?"

Dean took one of her hands in his. "I'm saying, I'm not going to chase you anymore. I want to run with you, Rory, I want to sprint with you and feel the wind in our hair, but I can't eat your dust anymore, either."

He stood up, and for the first time, Rory noticed how tall he was, how sinewy his long arms and legs were.

"I'm sorry, I need to go," he said. "I'm double-parked."

Wordlessly, she watched him leave, and then the apartment was truly silent.


	11. Conversations in the Dark

**A/N: Finally, finally, FINALLY! I just want to say thank you to everyone who's stuck with this story over the long wait. Hopefully the length of this chapter will help make up for it a little, and I will TRY not to make you wait so long for the next chapter! Thanks again for reading. Your comments always brighten my day and inspire me to keep going. On the day I actually get this story finished, you are all invited to e-celebrate with me!**

* * *

"Mmm. That was good."

Lorelai turned her head and rested her cheek on Christopher's mattress. She smiled dreamily, enjoying Christopher's warm weight pressing down on her back, trapping her against the bed. _You are never going to get bored of this man, are you?_ a hazy voice whispered in the back of her mind.

Christopher brushed away her hair from her neck, then tickled her skin with his stubble as he pressed kisses to the nape and along her shoulder blade. "Very good," he said.

Lorelai stretched an arm out to the side, and Christopher covered it with his own, his fingers lacing between hers.

Lorelai sighed contentedly. "Things are going so great at work right now."

Christopher paused. "Is this what you normally think about after great sex?"

Lorelai giggled. "One good thing begets another."

"Your mind is a Rube Goldberg dream." Christopher pressed another kiss to Lorelai's shoulder, then rolled onto his back next to her.

"The Ashley Benton perfume campaign has been doing amazingly well. Her agent just faxed us some more sales reports. They're through the roof. Ashley Benton may be a flaky floozy, but that girl can move units."

Christopher twirled his finger around a lock of Lorelai's hair. "Don't forget that she also has the greatest creative director in Manhattan marshaling her campaign."

Lorelai couldn't help but smile at the compliment. "Her people are so happy with us that they've asked us to do a campaign for her winter fashion line."

"She has a fashion line?" Christopher sounded less than convinced.

Lorelai propped herself up on her elbow. "She thinks she's the new Lauren Conrad."

"I suppose the novel's next."

"Did you even have to ask?"

"High aspirations, that girl."

"Oh, she's shooting for the stars. Fame at any price is a life slogan for her, which is why her clothing line is moving from upscale boutiques to a store where the unwashed masses can afford a piece of her."

"To the land of rolled-back prices?"

"That's the one. Her people think that we can once again work our magic on this trollop."

"I have no doubt you'll kick ass and take names."

"We'd better. Mitchum is going even more Gordon Gekko than usual, and no one wants to be the one to let him down."

Christopher smiled at her and traced a fingertip along her cheek. "You're going to be great."

"Thanks," Lorelai said gratefully. "Although," she added, realizing something, "it does mean that I'm going to be busy for the foreseeable future."

"Ah," Christopher said, sounding disappointed. "Not _too_ busy, though, right?"

Lorelai shook her head. "No, not too busy, but…not as free as I've been."

"Well, we'll just have to make the time we do have count." Christopher's lips curved impishly.

"If it's anything like what we just did, call me a counting fiend."

Lorelai leaned forward, and her lips met Christopher's in a soft kiss. It didn't take long for the kiss to turn passionate, but just as Lorelai was about to move things to the next level, Christopher's cell phone began to blare a brisk, electronic tune.

"Ugh," Christopher grumbled, breaking the kiss. "Sorry," he apologized, reaching over Lorelai to the nightstand.

Lorelai held back a groan as Christopher answered the call. She couldn't help but feel a little resentful; Christopher almost never took calls when they were together, so what made this one so important? And who would be calling him this late at night? Plus, she selfishly noted, it had been nearly a week since they'd last been together, which her body kept reminding her was unspeakably cruel.

"Okay…okay…Did you try--? No? Okay…yeah, I'm on my way." Christopher sounded resigned as he ended the call.

"What was that?" Lorelai asked, unsure if she wanted to hear the answer.

Christopher ran his fingers through his hair. "There's been a slight meltdown at work."

"At this time at night?"

"The nighttime beta crew. They were trying to crash the software, but they ended up melting down something in the hardware instead and now the whole system is speaking Klingon."

"And you're the guy who speaks Klingon?"

"Tonight I am. Mike's on vacation this week, so guess who's the lucky one."

"Oh." Lorelai tried to hide the disappointment in her voice, but she could tell by the expression on Christopher's face that she'd done a horrible job of it. She sat up and cast a quick glance around the room. "Well, I guess I should get going if you're going."

"I'm sorry, Lor," Christopher said apologetically.

Lorelai shook her head. "No, I completely understand. It's life. These things happen."

"You know, you don't have to leave if you don't want to. You could stay…be here when I get back?"

Lorelai narrowed her eyes in amusement even as her heart rate took off. "You mean, wait for you to get back, have more sex, and then leave even later?"

"Well…except for the leaving. You could just stay." There was a hopefulness in Christopher's voice. "I mean, it's something I've sort of been thinking about lately. Sometimes it just doesn't make sense for you to come over and then…leave so fast."

Maybe it was the late hour, maybe it was the way he was giving her that look again, but Lorelai's heart began to skitter like a small bird's. See, she thought, this was why they had rules. Because Christopher somehow had a way of making every suggestion sound infinitely wise and rational, stripping her of the decisiveness she'd wielded against every other man in her life. Luke had been content to let Lorelai lead the way when they had been dating, but Christopher was different. He wasn't pushy, but when he wanted something, he wasn't afraid to let Lorelai know. And now, with the way he was looking at her, and the memory of his fiery lips and hands still fresh in her mind, the temptation to agree was strong.

"Come on," Christopher cajoled gently. "I've barely seen you this past week, and five-minute phone conversations aren't the same."

"Chris," she whispered, trying to buy time.

"Lor."

"I don't want to inconvenience you."

"You're very inconvenient, but I look at it as personal growth on my part."

"I…I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just… Tomorrow. Tomorrow I really need to work on that big pitch for Ashley Benton's fashion line, and even though it's basically a done deal, I still have to sell it. It's really important, and I can't just, you know…." She trailed off, not wanting to have to say the rest.

"Oh." Christopher's face said everything. "Okay."

"I mean, you understand how it is."

"I do, absolutely. It's just that…"

"Just that what?"

Christopher sighed. "Nothing. Never mind. I get it, I understand. You're busy. You've got work."

Lorelai frowned. "Chris, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"That's not a 'nothing' face."

"Lor, it's nothing. I told you, I get it."

Christopher smiled and leaned forward and kissed her. When he pulled away, his gaze lingered on her for a moment, as if searching for something in her expression.

"Okay," he said, playful finality in his voice, "I believe we have more pressing issues at stake."

He slipped out of bed and began to get dressed, and Lorelai watched him for a moment, wondering at the change in his mood, before slipping out of bed herself.

************

"Ashley Benton. Fresh, fun, exciting, and affordable. It's a combination that can't be beat, and it's what young women are looking for in fashion."

Lorelai waited a dramatic beat to let the final lines of her pitch sink in. Behind her, projected onto the screen in the conference room, was a mock-up of a sweetly saucy Ashley Benton modeling a back-to-school look that was just edgy enough to be hip to girls, but not seductive enough to scare away the mothers -- and their checkbooks.

Ten faces stared back at her. Three belonged to Ashley Benton herself and her agent, Tad; one belonged to Mitchum Huntzberger; and the other seven belonged to the members of her group most responsible for the ad campaign. Ashley's face was beaming, and when her agent began to applaud, quickly followed by her manager, Lorelai knew she had hit a home run. Her feeling of satisfaction grew even greater when she saw the triumphant expression on Mitchum's face. It wasn't easy to impress the man, but she'd managed to do it that day.

"Well," Tad said, his gaze fixed on the mock artwork, "I think we have our answer."

"And that is--?" Mitchum prompted.

"Yes!" Ashley exclaimed, her voice as bubbly as it sounded on television. "It is, like, so brilliant I can, like, barely stand it. It's, like, so perfect. It's, like, everything I, like, so totally wanted for my, like, line."

Lorelai pressed her lips together in a thin smile, which was her usual reaction to Ashley's syntax. "I was hoping you'd say that," she said.

"Well, I think there's only one thing left to do," Tad said, eyeing Mitchum.

"Draw up those papers," Mitchum supplied, a grin on his face. Lorelai knew well that nothing made him happier than closing deals.

"This one," Tad said, waving a finger at Lorelai, "she's gold. Don't ever let go of her, or we might have to take our business elsewhere."

Lorelai felt her cheeks flush at the compliment as Mitchum regarded her.

"Believe me, I have no intention of letting her go," he said.

They all stood and shook hands, and Ashley and her people filed out of the room, followed by Lorelai's team.

Lorelai watched them go, a smile still on her face.

"That was excellent work," Mitchum said, still standing on the other side of the table.

Lorelai turned to face him. "Thank you," she said. "It was a team effort."

Mitchum came around the table. "But you're the Phil Jackson. You bring it together."

"I do my best."

"You know, Ashley Benton is going to be named one of _Forbes_ magazine's top celebrity earners for this year."

"Wow…I don't know whether to cheer or sob."

"She's not at the top, of course, but she's building quite the little empire for herself."

"It's the American way."

"What this means is that she gets our name further out there, and we get top dollar from her. And your name is getting out there, too." Mitchum eyed her, waiting for the implications to sink in. "In other words, we want to make sure you're happy here."

Lorelai's mouth formed an O shape. "I see."

"I'll have to run it by old man Stiles, of course, but how does Partner sound to you?"

Lorelai's mouth went from an O shape to dropping open. "It sounds great," she said after finding her tongue. No one had made partner at the firm for over a decade. Most employees joked that making partner was one of those ancient myths, like stories about Zeus, or boy bands not having a member who was secretly in the closet.

"Contingent upon the signing of the contract, of course," Mitchum added. "Not that it should be an issue. They looked as sold on your pitch as anyone I've ever seen over the years."

"Right," Lorelai said, nodding her head. The word _partner_ kept running through her mind, making it hard to focus on anything else.

"I don't get to say this very often, but you're an asset to our company. Good work today," Mitchum said, extending his hand to Lorelai.

They shook, and Lorelai drifted out of the conference room, barely aware of the ground beneath her feet.

************

"Omigod, omigod, omigod!" Rory shrieked, bursting into Lorelai's office like a rocket.

"I know!" Lorelai exclaimed, rushing toward Rory and enveloping her in a fierce hug.

"This is so amazing," Rory said when they finally let go of their embrace. "It's been at least ten years since anyone made partner!"

"I know!" Lorelai felt pretty sure that if she smiled any more, her cheeks would freeze in place.

"It's not a rumor!"

"It really isn't a rumor!"

"I can't believe it's not a rumor!"

"Neither can I!"

Lorelai and Rory shrieked and embraced again.

"So how are you going to celebrate?" Rory asked eagerly.

"I have no idea! It's still sinking in!"

"I'm thinking somewhere with a free-flowing bar."

"We could crash a wedding."

"Ooh, we could be wedding crashers."

"Do they list weddings in the _Times_?"

"Which one of us is Isla Fisher?"

Lorelai and Rory looked at each other and burst into giggles.

"I still can't believe this," Rory said, shaking her head.

"Me, either," Lorelai agreed. "I never thought it would happen, at least not this soon. Usually someone has to die for everyone else to move up in line."

"Yeah, once you make partner, you usually don't get fired."

"And we have an unusually healthy employee roster."

"People at Huntzberger and Stiles lead exceptionally robust lives compared to the rest of corporate Manhattan. It was a statistic in one of the company newsletters. On average we live five years longer."

"Look at old man Stiles. He still has a full head of hair."

"It's a very admirable hair helmet."

"So," Lorelai said, returning to their original topic, "what's your schedule like tonight? Are you free to be fabulous?"

Rory bit her lip. "Actually, I'm not. Logan and I are down to the wire on the side project, and we're trying to get our portfolio locked tonight."

"Wow, time flies."

"Well, it's been good for me."

Lorelai immediately knew what Rory's tone was referring to. Lorelai had been shocked to find out that Rory and Dean had broken up. Rory had thrown herself even more into her work after the break-up, and Lorelai secretly wondered when Rory would finally deal with the aftermath. She had been strangely calm about the whole thing, assuring her that it was a mature, mutual decision.

"Well, how about Saturday night, then? If we're feeling too lazy to stir up mayhem about town, we can go to the corner store, buy some cheap boxed wine, and knock ourselves out with DVDs of the _Super Friends._"

Rory grinned. "Deal." She glanced out the window. "Wow, looks like a storm is rolling in," she said, indicating the dark clouds looming in the distance.

"Goody," Lorelai said, clasping her hands in anticipation. "I love it when the thunder makes the building shake."

"Speaking of making the building shake," Rory said, throwing Lorelai a glance, "I can think of one person who would probably clear his schedule to celebrate with you."

"Who? --" Lorelai began, and then she realized who Rory meant. "Oh, right. Yeah, well, I think he's busy tonight."

Rory raised an eyebrow. "What did I just say about him clearing his schedule?"

"I know…it's just…" Lorelai tried to think of a way to explain her feelings. Ever since the night Christopher had asked her to stay, she had felt a strange distance between them. He hadn't brought up the subject again, but it still lingered in the air, forcing a self-consciousness on her part that had never been there before. Part of her was relieved he hadn't said anything, but another, more frustrating part of her constantly wondered why (and wondered if he would bring it up again in the future).

"I'm not sure we have that type of relationship," she finally managed to say.

Rory gave Lorelai a look. "Right, it's not that type of relationship. It's only the type of relationship where he comes over with take-out half the time because you say you haven't eaten yet, and then he refuses to let you pay for it, and he takes you for motorcycle rides around the city, and when you go over to his place on the weekends, you're there for half the day."

"Rory, I know what it looks like --"

"I do know what it looks like."

"I know what it looks like, but you have to trust me on this. It's not. Chris and I, our relationship is different."

"Does he know it's different? Because I'm not sure he does."

"Rory, Chris and I are just two adults enjoying the time we spend together. That's it. That's all it is."

"Okay, if you say so."

"Chris knew when we started this what it was. And that's what it still is. He knows this."

"All right, all right." The tone in Rory's voice was that of someone waving the white flag. "Gilmore, I am so proud of you, and you are the most amazing woman I know. I do want to celebrate with you, and if I didn't have this deadline, I would say we should both take the rest of the day off and go have some fun. As it is, I'm going to try to get this project done as fast as I can, and when I get home tonight, we can pop some champagne. How does that sound?"

Rory's big blue eyes were conciliatory, and Lorelai couldn't ever stay annoyed at Rory for long. "It sounds good," she said, offering Rory a smile.

"Good," Rory said, stepping forward to give Lorelai a hug. "I will be rushing home as soon as I can."

Lorelai glanced out the window. "If you can beat the storm," she said, noting how dark the clouds were. "I think we're in for a downpour."

"Champagne in a downpour? I don't think you can beat that."

Lorelai smiled. "No, I don't think you can. Unless you're dancing on the rooftop with some golf clubs in your hands. Then it's a party."

************

At six o'clock, most of the Huntzberger and Stiles employees had either headed home or were on their way out the door.

Rory, on the other hand, was transferring the last batch of files from her computer's hard drive to her portable memory stick. Glancing around to make sure she had all of the printouts she needed, she picked up her binder which contained all of the work she and Logan had been preparing for the past few weeks and headed to the small conference room down the hall.

On her way, she passed Logan's office. The door was open, and she could hear Logan's voice: "I'm still working, but what do you say we change that reservation to ten?...Of course I do. You say that like you think I don't care. I do care….No, do not accuse me of lying. Do not….You know I'm in this as much as you are, but I have a job that needs my attention, too….Fine, I'll call you at nine. Does that work for you?...Good. I'll talk to you later….Bye."

Rory heard the click of Logan's phone being hung up, and she quickly scurried on to the small conference room, hoping that he wouldn't come out of his office too quickly and possibly discover that she had been eavesdropping.

She breathed a small sigh of relief when she made it into the conference room without a hitch. Pulling out a chair, she sat down and began to sort her papers into different piles.

The weeks that had passed since Dean had broken up with Rory had been a blur -- but a good type of blur. It had hurt that Dean had been the one to do the breaking up. As much as Rory knew that she didn't love him, and had never had more than a pleasant affection for him, it still smarted to be dumped. She could couch it in as diplomatic, neutral terms as she wanted when she spoke about it to Lorelai, but the truth was that her ego had taken a pounding. In all of her fantasies about letting Dean down gently, she had always been the compassionate one, filled with sage wisdom and soothing words. To be blindsided on the receiving end had been akin to strolling along the sidewalk and being mauled by a semi out of nowhere. So Rory had been grateful for the extra work with Logan to keep her busy.

The only downside to working with Logan was that he was even more mesmerizing up close. He was more motivated about this little side project than she'd ever seen him on any genuine H&S ad campaign, and the effect was transformative. He was filled with purpose, and Rory had never seen anyone with the kind of tireless focus that Logan brought to the project. He showed up after hours fully prepared and filled with ideas every day, brilliant ideas that could only come from someone who was born to be a creative executive. He formed connections between words and pictures that Rory never would have thought of, and it was almost embarrassing how much she simply nodded in agreement when he pitched ideas.

Not that she hadn't successfully pitched several of her own. Her own energy seemed to feed off Logan's, and Rory had never felt more invigorated creatively. The words just seemed to flow from her fingertips. Although the hours sometimes went long, to Rory they often seemed like mere minutes.

She looked around at her neatly arranged piles, with color-coded tabs protruding from the sides -- the unmistakable hallmark of her work. She was going to be sorry when it all came to an end…and she was especially going to be sorry about not getting to spend any extra time with Logan.

By now she'd given up lying to herself about her attraction to him. Against all common sense, she'd gone and developed the most embarrassing crush she'd had since fifth grade, when Mike Przybylski (whose last name she had devoted many hours to perfecting) had picked her to be on his kickball team in gym class. She had always prided herself on not being attracted to the "obvious" guys, but here she'd done just that. But how could she have resisted? Logan was incredibly intelligent, exceptionally creative, astoundingly confident, a good listener, warm, inviting, and confoundingly mysterious. He was everyone's friend and could make you feel like a million bucks, but even after long hours spent together, Rory still suspected she didn't really know Logan…and she suspected that neither did anyone else.

Sometimes when they were working, she became so engrossed in the work that she forgot about her crush. Those were the best moments, because the rest of the time she was constantly fighting a battle not to stare at him, not to imagine how she would react if he came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist…and not to be jealous of the girl he was currently seeing.

She couldn't quite recall how many girlfriends Logan had had in the past several months, but it seemed to Rory that he had a different one every week. Sasha, Taylor, Emily, Natalie…all had been gorgeous, and all had been gone before Rory could find out their last names. Currently he was dating someone named Isabel, whose grandfather had made a fortune in the microwave dinner industry. Judging by the phone conversation Rory had overheard, it didn't sound like things were going that peachy between Logan and Isabel. Then again, they had just crossed the two-week mark.

Like all the others, Isabel was willowy and gorgeous, but as a brunette, she had finally brought Logan's impressive string of blonde conquests to an end. Rory had met her briefly when she had showed up one night, demanding that Logan take her out as he'd promised. Curiously, Logan had very firmly shushed her, told her he was working, shown her the door, and rolled his eyes at Rory after Isabel had left.

"I sure know how to pick 'em, huh?" he'd said, rejoining Rory at their table.

"I guess," Rory had said, not wanting to get too involved.

She'd never forgotten the way he'd looked at her then, like he was looking at something amazing. "You're not like that, though," he'd said before immediately proceeding into a discussion about graphic artists who could do a final design for the ads.

She'd fallen asleep dreaming about that look that night, and the next night, and the next.

Her thoughts were broken up by Logan himself striding into the room, looking distracted. "Sorry I'm late. Had to take care of some personal stuff," he said, glancing around like he had no idea where he was. "Damn, those are some clouds," he added, stopping to look out the window. The sky looked nearly black with the oncoming storm.

"I organized all of our stuff," Rory said, standing. "This is a list of possible photographers, samples of their work, and their contact information, this pile has the short list of mockups that we liked and we just have to go through it and pick the final ones, and this here is some of the alternate copy that we were discussing. So I guess if we can get this all sorted, we might actually have a short night tonight."

"Right," Logan said. "What was the first pile again?"

"The possible photographers."

"Right, right. Sorry, I'm just…" Logan shook his head. "Rory, why do I get involved with women again?"

Rory blinked. "Uh…do you really need to have it explained?"

"Right." Logan offered a small grin. "It's a bad habit. Don't do it. You'll give yourself a lot of headaches."

"Well, I don't have any plans to get involved with any women any time soon, but I'll keep the advice in mind."

Logan chuckled. "Nice," he said, recognizing that she'd gotten him.

Rory smiled and handed Logan the portfolio of one possible photographer. "What do we think of this one?" she asked.

Logan took the folder and flipped through its contents. "What do you think?"

"I think he's okay. He's stylish and very hot right now, but I'm not so sure he's the right one for this campaign."

"Because?"

"Well…" Rory squirmed a little bit. "He tends to make the women look a little…"

Logan paused on a photo. "A little Jenna Jameson."

"Yeah."

Logan tossed the folder aside. "Yeah, we're not advertising for a call service here."

Rory handed him the next folder, and they began to run down the list of pros and cons.

"You don't think it would be rude if I canceled on Isabel tonight, do you?" Logan asked after they had narrowed down their list to three.

"What?" Rory asked, surprised at the turn of conversation.

"I'm supposed to take her out tonight, but I don't know if I can take the drama right now."

"You do seem very Chuck-and-Blair at times."

Logan pulled out his phone and stared at it. "I probably shouldn't," he said finally, putting it back in his pocket. "I've already canceled twice this week."

He stood and moved his chair over to Rory's side of the table, seating himself quite close to her. "It'll be more efficient this way," he said.

Rory nodded and slid another folder over to him. She could smell traces of his cologne, and it wasn't helping her concentration.

"So, I haven't heard you talk about Dean lately," Logan said, his eyes on the papers inside the folder. "You two still good?"

Rory dropped the folder she was holding, the papers scattering all over the floor. She hurriedly ducked under the table to retrieve the papers, only to find Logan beneath the table helping her. Their hands brushed as they reached for the same paper, and Rory quickly withdrew her hand as electric shocks raced up her arm.

"Sorry about that," she said, smoothing her hair after they both emerged from under the table. She checked the papers quickly, then handed them to Logan. "The two texts we were discussing last time," she told him.

"You didn't answer my question."

"What question?"

"My question about you and Dean. Are you two still good?"

Rory took a breath as her heart began to race. "I'm good, but I don't know how Dean is doing. We broke up."

She couldn't read the expression in Logan's eyes. "You broke up."

"We broke up. It wasn't a big, bitter thing. It just…happened. We weren't right for each other, I guess."

"Well, if it's not right, it's not right. Better to know now than later."

"Is that why you break up with all of your girlfriends so fast?"

Logan laughed guiltily. "I am not a commitment guy," he said.

A loud clap of thunder from outside boomed, and Rory smiled.

"Yeah, the universe knows it," Logan said, chuckling lightly. "I try, but I guess I'm not trying hard enough. Or maybe it's genetic, I don't know. Passed down from father to son. Not that you heard that from me."

"Have you ever dated anyone, you know, long-term?" Rory asked, letting her curiosity get the better of her.

Rain began to spatter against the windows, creating a soothing noise in the background.

"One girl, four months, in college. She was history after I caught her making out with my arch-nemesis in the library. Right between the biographies of Mao and Stalin. It was a memorable day."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. She wasn't the one, and now she's married with triplets named Huey, Dewey, and Louie."

"No."

"Honest to God truth. Huey Lewis, Dewey Decimal, and one of the King Louises. Those are their namesakes."

"And this girl went to Yale?"

"Ivy league educations aren't worth what they once were." Logan closed the folder he was looking at and put it in the discard pile. "Hey, do you want to order a pizza? I'm starving."

Rory felt her own stomach rumble, and nodded. The rain against the windows began to pound harder. "I feel sorry for the delivery boy."

"Nah, I'm a great tipper. I'll make it worth his while. Sausage, pepperoni, mushroom?"

"As long as it's pizza, I'll eat it."

"Yeah, I seem to remember you saying something about how you and Lorelai are human garbage disposals. Ooh, Thai chicken. It's the peanuts. The peanuts really make the thing. It's something about how they blend with the green onions. Let's do that."

He pulled out his phone to place the order, and Rory moved over to the couch at the side of the room. Her view of the city was obscured by the wide rivulets of rain streaking the panes, giving a distorted glow of street lights and lights from other office buildings. Night skies always made her feel small, putting whatever was going on in her life into perspective. There were bigger things going on in the world.

The couch cushion depressed to her side, and Rory looked over to see Logan sitting down next to her.

"Guy says twenty minutes," he said.

"Great, let's hold him to that."

Logan stared at his hands in his lap. "Well, we're almost done with this thing. How does it feel?"

His nearness was distracting. He wasn't physically large or sinewy the way Dean was, but somehow his mere presence set off firecrackers in Rory's brain in a way Dean never had.

"It feels good," she said, trying to concentrate on ignoring the skipping of her heart. "I actually can't believe we're near the end. There were some nights I wasn't sure we were going to make it."

"You didn't think we were going to make it? Why do you think I wanted to work with you instead of, say, Herbie?"

Rory gave a small smile. Herbie was another copywriter, ambitious and officious, but astonishingly oblivious to, well, everything. How he managed to get his work done was anybody's guess, but so far he had been able to elude the notorious H&S chopping block.

"I don't know, Herbie has his good points," Rory said.

"Name one."

"Um, he comes to work on time?"

"Name a second one."

"Hey, don't go changing the rules on me."

Logan laughed, and Rory joined him.

"Fair enough," Logan said, and his arm touched hers as he stretched his arms in front of him as another crack of thunder boomed.

Suddenly, the room went dark.

Rory gasped in surprise. She cast a quick glance toward the window, and half of the city, it seemed, had turned black.

"Don't worry," came Logan's voice in the darkness, "the reserve generators should be coming on any second."

True to his word, a few seconds later, a sliver of light from the hallway glowed faintly under the doorway.

"Maybe we should go out there," Rory said tentatively.

"And do what? The elevators won't be working."

"So what do we do now?"

"Sit here. Talk. Twiddle our thumbs in awkward silence. Take your pick."

Rory smiled but said nothing.

"Ah, so I see it's awkward silence," Logan said, sounding amused. "I should have been more charming these past few weeks."

Rory laughed lightly. "No, you've been plenty charming," she assured him.

"She speaks."

"It happens occasionally."

"Tell me more about how charming I am."

Rory gave a small, sardonic laugh. "Oh, you don't need me to tell you that."

"Why not? My girlfriend never does."

"You could always go out and get a new girlfriend who will."

"I could. Kind of a lot of work, though, all that wooing. Makes me tired at night."

"Or, um, newsflash: you could do things she thinks are charming."

"Are you saying the walks in Central Park, holding hands and stealing kisses, aren't enough?"

For the briefest instant, Rory entertained the thought of Logan holding her hand and stealing kisses. It made her knees feel shaky. "Have you considered that she's a mannequin?"

"Oh, no, this isn't a Real Doll thing. I have standards."

"Well, some women have hearts of stone."

"True. Or maybe I just don't care enough."

"That's a great reason to date someone."

"I've heard of worse reasons."

"You could always break up."

"Like you and Dean."

"Like you and all of your other girlfriends. You do have a knack for it. I've seen at least three leave your office in tears. Their mascara ran in a very flattering way. I should find out what brands they use."

"I hope you let him down easy."

"Who?"

"Dean. I hope you let him down easy."

"I…" Rory twisted to face Logan, even though she couldn't see him in the dark. "What is it with you and Dean? Why do you care so much? Do you want to go out with him or something?"

Logan laughed. "No, no, I don't want to go out with him. I don't know, it's…you seemed like you were a good couple, really solid. And I just…you know, there aren't a lot of guys like him out there. Good, stand-up guys. And I think you should be with a guy like that."

"You think I should be with Dean?"

"I think you should be with a guy _like_ Dean."

"Logan, with all due respect, all you saw in our relationship was the big stuff."

"He does have great taste in flowers."

"Oh, God, the flowers. He must have spent a fortune on those. But you didn't know us."

"Rory, I saw how he looked at you at the picnic and at the restaurant."

"And you based your whole idea of our relationship off what, ten minutes total of interaction with him?"

"Rory, I'm a guy. I know what I saw."

"How are you suddenly the relationship expert? You can't even hold on to a girlfriend for a month."

"Why are you so upset about my opinion? It's just my opinion."

"God! Because you make it sound like I'm doing something wrong. Like I did something wrong in the relationship and I should feel guilty that we broke up."

"Did you?"

"No! I just didn't love him. And he knew it."

The second the words were out of Rory's mouth, every other thought slammed to a halt. She had been fighting the acceptance of her break-up with Dean since the moment it had happened. Now, like the aftermath of a dam breaking, the tension she'd been carrying around with her, that she'd tried to bury in work, was finally easing.

"He figured it out," she said softly. "And he broke up with me. That's why we're not together anymore. There…is that a good enough explanation for you?"

The darkness seemed even darker in the silence that followed.

"Yeah," came Logan's low voice. "It is. I'm sorry I pried."

"Don't be. It felt good to finally tell someone."

"You never told anyone?"

"I'm not the kind of person who tells people that kind of stuff."

"But you told me."

"Yeah, I guess I did."

"Thank you."

"Why?"

"I'm not the kind of person people usually tell stuff to. People like to be around me, but they don't tell me things."

Another silence followed, one with a different kind of tension, and Rory could hear her heart beating in her ears.

"Logan?" she asked tentatively.

"I never considered asking Herbie to work with me," he said. His voice sounded closer to her ear than before, and there was a husky tone to it that she hadn't heard before.

"You didn't?"

"I didn't. The truth is, I wanted to work with you, but not just because you're talented or because you get stuff done on time."

Rory's heart began to pound at breakneck speed, and the same feeling she had when he'd told her she wasn't like other girls returned.

"Oh?" she asked.

"You're different."

"Uh, different good or different bad?"

"Different good."

"Okay, um, that's good."

"When I see you…when I see you at work, you make me…I feel…" He gave a small chuckle. "God, I'm bad at this. It sounded so much better in my head."

Somehow his hand found hers in the dark, and Rory had to strain to hear him over the rush of blood pounding in her ears. He was touching her…holding her hand…what…how…

"It's just, you're really --"

And then the lights suddenly came back on again.

"--Visible," Logan said, a notable change in his voice. Almost immediately he let go of her hand.

Rory winced as her eyes adjusted to the light. "You, too," she said quietly, feeling pierced by his sudden change of demeanor. She looked down at the hand he had held for those few seconds; in the light it looked white and frail.

She looked back at Logan, and something like cloudiness had dulled his eyes.

Before she had a chance to say anything, his cell phone rang.

Almost eagerly, he fished it out of his pocket and glanced at the caller ID. "It's Isabel," he said mechanically. "I should take this."

He walked briskly out of the room, leaving Rory alone on the couch.

A knock on the door interrupted her swirling thoughts, and a scraggly-looking young man poked his head inside. He looked sweaty and was still catching his breath.

"Hey," he said, "did you order a Thai pizza? Man, those stairs are killer."

************

At six o'clock, Lorelai could barely contain herself. After her success with Ashley Benton, the rest of the day had been a blur. Why people had to work after finding out they were getting promoted was criminal. When she became head of a company -- maybe her own advertising agency -- she was definitely giving people the rest of the day off after informing them of their promotions.

She was starting to gather up her things to take home, when the phone rang.

"Lorelai Gilmore," she said into the receiver.

"Hi, Lorelai, I have Tad Brooks on the line."

Lorelai smiled. Tad was probably just calling to confirm the final details of the H&S deal with Ashley.

"Sure, put him through," she told the receptionist. After a second, she heard a click on the line.

"Lorelai, you're still in your office."

"Hi, Tad," Lorelai said, smiling. "What can I do for you? You're lucky you caught me, actually. I was about to walk out the door."

"Yeah," Tad said slowly, and something in his tone made Lorelai suddenly wary. "I actually thought you might have gone already."

"Tad?" Lorelai asked. "Is there something wrong?"

"No, no, nothing's wrong. Everything's great, actually. There's just something I needed to pass on to you."

"Okay, I'm Terrell Owens."

Tad cleared his throat. "I just wanted to thank you for your services."

"You're very welcome. It's our pleasure."

"And I also wanted to say that we won't be needing them."

A horrible pit formed in Lorelai's stomach as she gripped the receiver. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"Ashley has decided to go with another advertising agency for her fashion line. I'm sure you understand."

Lorelai's world was spinning. "Whoa, wait, no. No, I do not understand. I was there when we all signed the papers, Tad. I saw Ashley sign a contract with us, a contract for us to perform a service for her. You're joking, right?"

"Lorelai, I know you worked hard on your pitch, and I really commend you for your efforts, but Ashley wants to go in a different direction."

Lorelai's heart was in her stomach. The scene from earlier in the day replayed in her head as she recounted every word, every compliment. "Tad," she said, trying to keep the quiver out of her voice, "I was there. Ashley said our ideas were perfect. You told Mitchum not to let me go. Where is this change of heart coming from?"

"Lorelai, I've told you all there is to tell. We're simply going in a different direction."

"No. We signed a contract, Tad."

"But you haven't performed it, Lorelai. You haven't devoted any resources to it. We have an out."

Lorelai braced herself on the edge of her desk. "You don't want to do this, Tad. Don't go there."

"I'm sorry, Lorelai. Best of luck to you."

There was a click, and Lorelai was left holding the receiver, not sure if she could still feel her legs.

Rain began to pelt against her window, and she collapsed in her chair, not sure how she was going to break the news to Mitchum.

************

An hour -- fifty-eight minutes, to be exact -- was the amount of time Lorelai had listened to Mitchum rail. Some of the minutes had been devoted to bludgeoning Lorelai with blame; most of them had been devoted to screaming at Tad Brooks on the phone and spewing diatribes about Ashley Benton with rather salty language.

Lorelai, for the most part, had remained silent, her brain unwilling to process the loss of the account.

When she'd finally been able to leave, she'd stumbled back to her office, and that was when the nausea had hit her.

She'd never lost an account before. She'd occasionally had clients back out before the papers were signed, but she'd never had a client outright break a contract. People in the office knew her as a "closer," someone who could make business happen.

And now her reputation, and her promotion, had gone up in smoke. Mitchum had made it clear that he couldn't go to old man Stiles with this mess on his hands.

Feeling sick, Lorelai grabbed her purse, slung it over her shoulder, and ran toward the elevator. When the silvery doors opened, she flung herself inside, pressed the button for the ground floor, and bit her lip.

It couldn't be happening to her. It couldn't.

To be so close…and miss.

She thought of the hours, the days she had worked on the campaign. All the arguments, all the decisions, all the long hours perfecting every detail.

And now all of that was gone.

The elevator doors opened to the ground level, and Lorelai stumbled out the front door, where the rain was pelting down hard. A flash of lightning lit up the sky, followed by a deep roll of thunder.

Not caring about the weather, Lorelai stumbled down the street to her bus stop. Rain quickly soaked her clothes, and rivulets of water streamed down her face, but she didn't care. She just wanted to leave.

She found a little bit of shelter by the bus stop, and she drew her arms around herself to try to warm up.

Minutes went by, and no bus arrived. Lorelai checked her watch and frowned. She knew the schedule like the back of her hand, and the bus definitely should have arrived already.

She looked across the street and saw the stoplights blinking, and not just on this block, but on every block. She immediately concluded that there had been a power outage, which meant that the lights weren't working, which meant that the buses were not going to be on time, which meant she was never going to get home.

A fresh crop of tears sprang to her eyes, and she wiped at her face with the back of her hand.

Why did bad things have to happen to people? To good people, like her? People who worked hard and were honest and treated other people fairly? Who didn't stab others in the back after giving their word?

She looked up, and the stoplights were still blinking. The bus was never going to come.

Fresh tears wet her face as she squeezed some of the water out of her blouse.

All she wanted was to be somewhere warm, and quiet, and safe…somewhere away from all of this.

With sudden fervor, she reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. After pressing a few buttons, she held it to her ear.

"Hey, Lor." Christopher's voice sounded cheerful.

"Chris," Lorelai choked out through her sniffles, "I need you."

************

The plastic parka that Christopher had brought for Lorelai whipped in the wind as he sped on his motorcycle through the city. Lorelai held on to his waist tightly from behind, aware of nothing but the firm warmth of his body.

He had raced to the bus stop in minutes. With no questions asked, he'd given her the plastic parka to put on, and they'd zoomed away from the scene.

She remained close to him as he pulled into the garage, and he held her gently against his chest as they rode in the elevator up to his floor.

"Well, here we are," he said softly as he followed her inside his apartment.

Lorelai looked around at the familiar surroundings -- the big screen TV, the ugly green couch, the stools at the bar in the kitchen -- and a wave of relief washed over her.

"Thank you," she said, turning to him with a grateful smile.

Christopher took her into his arms and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Why don't you go take a shower? I'll order us up some food."

She nodded, and he kissed her hair.

"Go," he murmured. "I'll take care of everything."

************

The hot water of the shower worked as a magical stress reliever, and Lorelai was content to stand under the stream, letting her cares melt away.

She stepped out of the shower in a puff of steam and dried off, then wrapped the towel around her body as she stepped into Christopher's bedroom, where her wet clothes had been placed on a drying rack.

She walked over to Christopher's dresser and pulled out a drawer. It was filled with an assortment of T-shirts, and Lorelai smiled as she pulled out a well-worn blue one. She held it to her nose and breathed. It had been a long time since she'd worn a man's clothing, and a smile crossed her lips. She slipped the T-shirt over her head and went rummaging for a pair of boxer shorts. When she pulled them up over her hips, she discovered they were much too large for her, so she rolled the waist down a few times until they hung nicely over her hips. She used the towel to wring out more water from her hair, then padded out to the living room.

To her surprise, the room was dark except for the light from a small cluster of candles on the coffee table -- and the soft glow of the television, which was muted and showing the talking heads of reporters on an entertainment show. Several cartons of Chinese food were spread over the coffee table, and Lorelai could tell from the aroma that Christopher had ordered her favorite dish.

She looked up to see Christopher walking from the kitchen with two goblets and a bottle of wine. He had changed out of his wet clothes into a T-shirt and drawstring shorts, and Lorelai chuckled to herself at their ultra low-key looks. It was a first for them; up until now, Lorelai had always dressed to impress. But under the circumstances, it no longer seemed necessary.

Christopher set down the goblets and began to twist the cork out of the bottle as Lorelai came and sat next to him on the couch.

"All I had was Merlot, but I figured you could use something to help you unwind," he told her as he poured the dark red liquid into their goblets.

"The shower was pretty potent, but I won't say no to high-class hooch," Lorelai replied, picking up her glass to take a sip. The wine washed over her tongue, and she could feel even more of her anxieties disappear.

Christopher began to unpack the boxes of Chinese food, opening up the rice first and then their entrees. "So how are you doing?" he asked, watching her face carefully.

"Better," Lorelai said honestly.

"Good."

He handed her a pair of chopsticks, and she dug into the large carton of Chinese food. The second the food touched her mouth, she realized she was starving, and before she knew it, she had wolfed down half of the container in just a few minutes.

She looked up to see Christopher smiling at her.

"What?" she asked.

Christopher shook his head as though waking from a reverie. "Nothing," he said. "Just enjoying the view."

Lorelai made a face at him. "Voyeur."

He just smiled back, and they continued eating, mostly in silence, until Lorelai finally set down her chopsticks. A soothing shower and a full stomach had gone a long way in changing her mood.

Pouring herself another glass of wine, she scooted closer to Christopher and sighed contentedly.

"You all better now?" he asked.

"I think so."

Christopher refilled his own glass and sat back. "You want to talk about it?" he asked, his voice gentle.

Lorelai downed part of her wine and sighed. The wine was definitely helping her perspective. "Yes. No. Not really."

"Oh. Okay."

"It was basically like winning the golden ticket the Wonka Chocolate Factory, only to have a putrid little Oompa-Loompa snatch it away from you at the last second."

Seeing Christopher's confused expression, she began to tell him the events of her day. How she had been so happy after the pitch to Ashley Benton, and how gobsmacked and ecstatic she'd been when Mitchum had told her about the promotion, and how she had felt like the ground had dropped out from under her feet when she'd picked up the phone and heard Tad Brooks on the other end, and how she'd wanted to crawl into a hole when Mitchum began screaming.

"And then it was raining, and the power was out, and the bus wasn't coming, and so I called you," she concluded.

"And then I came and rescued you," Christopher said with a smile.

"You did."

Christopher continued smiling at her. "Come here," he said, and Lorelai willingly slid into his embrace.

His muscles were firm and he smelled of that slightly spicy, reassuring smell that she always associated with him. The wine, in combination with the food, was making her body lax and her eyelids heavy, and she snuggled closer to him, burrowing her head into the curve of his neck and shoulder. His fingers slid into her hair, softly caressing her scalp, and with his other hand, he turned up the volume of the television with the remote as Jon Stewart appeared on the screen.

As Jon cracked jokes with his studio audience and ran clips of his "reporters" on their beats, Christopher began to talk about his opinion of fake news, and whether or not comedy could be considered valid journalism when it broke news that regular news outlets ignored, and did people really need journalism degrees anymore when there was TMZ?

Lorelai nodded or murmured "mm-hmm" occasionally, but she was only half-listening. She was too full of food and wine, and it felt too good snuggling against his chest, with his arm wrapped around her, to pay full attention to what he was saying.

She sneaked a glance upward at his face, which was animated with his thoughts, and she smiled to herself. He was such a wonderful man.

And then, in the haze of her wine-addled mind, it slowly sank in: Christopher really _was_ pretty wonderful.

Only a wonderful man would have driven out in the rain on a motorcycle at a moment's notice. Only a wonderful man would have made sure she was warm and fed. Only a wonderful man would have listened to her thoughts and laughed with her about the most mundane things and taken her to movies and out for rides and would have programmed her phone to play silly ringtones. Only a wonderful man would have been so passionate yet so tender when she was in his arms.

"I mean, if you're out there being a whistleblower, can you really then claim that you're just a fake journalist when others put the heat on you?" Christopher was saying. "It seems pretty weak to me that you can debate politicians and then say, 'Oh, hey, only a comedian.'"

His words were stopped cold when Lorelai pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek.

He turned to look at her, a note of surprise on his face. "What was that for?" he asked softly.

"Just because," Lorelai whispered back, the beginnings of a smile tipping up the corners of her mouth.

"I see," he replied.

He bent his head forward, and she met his lips with another kiss. Tiny electric shocks tingled her lips where they touched his, and she moved her hand to his cheek as they kissed again.

They kissed slowly, deliberately, letting their mouths speak without words. Their breathing grew heated as they continued, and Lorelai's hands wound into Christopher's hair as he pulled her against his chest.

Finally, she broke the kiss to catch her breath. "Wow," she muttered, her chest heaving.

Christopher continued to press kisses to her temple and cheek. "Maybe we should move this to the bedroom."

Lorelai smiled and nodded as he nipped her right behind the ear. "I think we should." Then, realizing the television was still on, she added, "Plus, I can't get naked in front of Jon Stewart."

Christopher stopped and glanced at the television. "Yeah, that could be awkward."

They looked at each other and giggled -- almost shyly, Lorelai thought -- and Christopher clicked off the television while Lorelai blew out the candles. Holding hands, they silently walked back to his bedroom.

Inside his room, he pulled her to him, and they kissed hungrily, all decorum thrown to the wind as hands and arms grappled haphazardly over clothes and skin. His hands seemed to be everywhere at once, on her breasts and under her T-shirt and over her bottom and in her hair, and she was stroking his chest and his back and the hardness in his shorts.

He led her over to the bed and pulled off his shirt before helping her out of hers.

"That's better," he said.

"Definitely," she replied.

Smiling at each other, they crawled onto the bed, and his weight descended on her as they kissed again.

His mouth moved to her neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, and then he nuzzled his way down to the waistband of her boxer shorts. Lorelai's body tensed in anticipation of what he would do next, but to her surprise, he pressed a soft, almost reverent, kiss to the flesh between her navel and the waistband. He lingered there, licking and kissing, until Lorelai thought she was going to go insane from the desire that was building up inside of her.

Finally, he moved a few inches higher, tracing meandering lines with his lips and tongue, sometimes murmuring unintelligible words against her skin, sometimes nuzzling her with his nose and cheek. Lorelai's toes curled as she tried to maintain her control. He was making her mad, completely mad, and he had to know from the mewling sounds coming from her lips. She tightened her fingers in his hair and tried to think of things that could distract her from the growing, aching emptiness inside her. Things like shopping, or coffee, or…oh, God, her mother. No, no, not her mother. Never her mother when Christopher was making her mewl like a cat.

He reached her sternum, and it was all she could do not to thrust her breasts into his mouth. He found them eventually, tending to one, then the other, rolling her nipples under his tongue like small candies until she could have sobbed with pleasure.

He kissed her mouth again, drinking deeply, stroking her exposed skin with his hands, until she was breathless and crazed with need. They stared into each other's eyes, parting briefly to get rid of his shorts and her boxers, and then they were pressing their naked bodies together, skin against skin, all barriers between them erased. He felt like velvet against her, and all she could think was how badly she needed him inside her, satisfying her. She crushed her mouth to his, begging him with her tongue, and he rubbed against her, coaxing her legs apart until the tip of him was settled just inside the warmth of her flesh.

He stared down at her, a look of wonderment on his face. "You are so beautiful," he breathed softly. "So beautiful."

He bent his head and kissed her, and she made a small cry into his mouth as he drove inside her, stretching her body with the thickness she had been craving.

_Home. It feels like home,_ she thought dazedly as they lay still for a moment.

He drew back, and she looked into his eyes, those blue eyes so fixed on her as though nothing else existed.

"You're here," she whispered to him.

"Yeah," he murmured back.

They smiled at each other, and as they shared another heated kiss, he began to move his hips, slowly at first, then with more speed.

She rocked with him, quietly moaning as they found their rhythm. Their hips moved up and down, back and forth, and Lorelai couldn't hold back a whimper as he hit the right spot. "Oh, God, there…yes…God, just like that," she hissed.

He obliged, and soon she lost herself in pleasure as she ground against him. "God, Lor," she heard him mutter between grunts.

The room filled with the sounds of their passion as the storm outside continued to rage against the window. They rocked faster together, and she drew her legs up, inviting him further in. Everything about him felt so good, she thought hazily as the slick skin of their bellies slid together, as her fingernails dug into his shoulders, trailed down his spine, curled around his amazing backside… He was so good, and she was so good with him, and they were good together.

They belonged to each other…could never belong to anyone else. He was hers, and she was his, and there was not a law of the universe more true.

Her back arched off the bed as she continued to thrust up at him, trying to pull him as deep inside her as she could. She needed to feel him, needed to be one with him, needed to melt into him until she couldn't tell where she left off and he began. She urged him to go faster, deeper, and she moaned as he plunged inside her again and again.

Dense, untamed emotions swirled like a hurricane inside Lorelai's chest, deeper than she could bear, too strong and too true to fight. They ground rapidly against each other, wild and feral as they careened toward the edge.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" she cried desperately as she clung to the precipice. "Chris, oh, God, Chris…"

"Lor," he rasped against her neck, "Lorelai…."

And then she felt it coming, like a firecracker hurtling into the sky before bursting into sound and color -- and she heard her voice: "I love you, Chris, I love you, God, I love you so much --"

He trembled, and his breath was like burning hot steam on her skin. "I love you, Lor, I love you, you're everything, I love you --"

With a groan he spilled inside her, and then it hit her like a tidal wave, shaking her so powerfully that it was all she could do just to withstand it, leaving her limp and devastated in its wake, completely awash in pleasure and wholeness.

Minutes -- or was it hours? -- passed as the world slowly came back into focus, a welcome stillness settling over the room like the calm after a storm at sea. Rain pelted the window in a hypnotic rhythm like a sonic backdrop to Christopher and Lorelai's satisfied sighs.

Gradually Lorelai became aware of Christopher's weight on top of her, and she slowly untangled herself from his body. He stirred and gave her a lazy smile, taking her lips in a long, tender kiss.

They kissed softly and sweetly, silently thanking each other for what had just happened, and Lorelai felt moisture at her eyes as an unexpected wave of emotion overwhelmed her. She waited until Christopher had rolled off to the side, then wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. It was all just too… She couldn't think of the right word to complete the sentence.

Christopher's arm slipped around her waist, and she was happy to let him pull her close, his warm chest like a soft wall against her back. She felt enveloped and protected and cherished, and she let out a tiny sigh. Was this what pure contentment felt like? She strongly suspected it was.

Christopher's mouth tickled her ear, and she smiled dreamily.

"Don't go home tonight, Lor," he murmured. "Stay with me."

She nodded automatically, her eyelids fluttering shut as she listened to the rain against the window. "I don't think it's ever going to stop raining," she said, and that was the last thing she remembered before drifting off to sleep.


	12. After the Rain

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** I apologize again for the long wait between chapters. Thanks to everyone who has left comments or has subscribed to updates, and thanks for sticking with this story! We are coming down the home stretch now.

* * *

**AFTER THE RAIN**

The sound of a shower running roused Lorelai from her sleep. With her eyes still closed, she rolled over. Rory was ridiculously punctual and always beat her to the shower. It was a good system, though, because that was how Lorelai knew that she had fifteen more minutes before she had to drag herself out of bed.

She pulled the bed sheet further over her body, but something about the sheet seemed wrong. It felt different and smelled like a different detergent. Frowning, she cracked open her eyes to look at the sheets and was surprised to see that they weren't her normal sheets. How had that happened?

She wracked her brain, trying to remember when she had bought these sheets and put them on her bed, when it hit her.

She wasn't in her own bed.

_And she was naked._

With a start, she opened her eyes fully and looked around.

She was in Christopher's bedroom, which was bright with the sunshine of a new day. A breeze through the window fluttered the drapes. The sound of cars driving by several stories below wafted up through the air.

Lorelai blinked. The cheerful brightness of the day was a perfect contrast to the darkness of the tumultuous night. It was as though the thunderstorm the night before had never happened.

Gathering the bedsheet around her, Lorelai slowly sat up, the details trickling back to her. It had been a passionate night; she remembered that much. Everything had seemed so real, so urgent, as though life itself had hung in the balance. Christopher had been amazing, she'd never wanted him more….

And yet somehow, in the morning, everything felt so far away, like it had been a dream or something she remembered from a movie. It was as though years had passed between her tear-streaked face in the rain and her well-rested self this morning. The Lorelai of the night before had been crazed, borderline hysterical, riding a roller coaster of emotions; the Lorelai of this morning was a sober woman.

She became aware again of the shower running, and she realized that Christopher was already awake. How would he remember their night together? How would he react? Hearing the water stop, she cast a glance around, a sudden anxiety gripping her. She shouldn't even be here, she'd never spent the night at his place before, she hadn't intended to stay, somehow it had just happened….

She decided to wait for Christopher to appear and then make a quick apology and head home. She thought of the debacle with the Ashley Benton account. How was she going to dig herself out of that hole? The thought made her feel a little sick. She glanced around the room again and this time noted the trail of crumpled clothes strewn on the floor. Her breath caught in her throat as a vivid memory of Christopher's lips and hands on her skin flashed through her mind.

Interrupting her thoughts, Christopher emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist. He beamed when he saw her, his eyes taking on a glow that she hadn't seen before.

"Good morning, Beautiful," he said, his voice caressing each word, as he came and sat next to Lorelai on the bed. Bringing his hand to her face, he kissed her softly on the lips. As usual, his touch left her tingling, and without thinking, she leaned in for another kiss.

His kisses were like a warm greeting against her tongue, waking her senses and making her forget her plan to leave. She moaned softly when he finally pulled away.

"Sleep well?" he asked, running his fingers through her hair.

Lorelai nodded, part of her hoping he would kiss her again.

"Good," Christopher said. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he got off the bed and walked over to his dresser. Lorelai's eyes widened in surprise as he casually dropped his towel. As he reached for a pair of underwear, she quickly averted her eyes. She wasn't sure why she felt self-conscious about his nakedness; she'd seen him undressed dozens of times before. But that, she reminded herself, had been in a rather different context, one in which nakedness was more or less required; this, on the other hand, seemed intimate in a context that wasn't.

"I was going to ask you to join me in the shower," Christopher continued, "but you looked so cute under the covers that I decided to let you sleep."

Lorelai chanced another look at him and was rewarded with the sight of Christopher still shirtless but now wearing a pair of jeans. He had turned his back to her, and Lorelai bit down lightly on her lower lip when she saw a few trails of pink scratches marring his skin. She hadn't realized she'd left souvenirs.

"What are you doing?" she asked, noticing that he was removing stacks of shirts from a dresser drawer and moving things around in another dresser drawer.

Christopher turned around and shot a grin at her. "I thought you might like a drawer of your own."

"Why?" The word was out of her mouth before she could think.

Christopher chuckled at her. "Well, it seemed like it was time," he said, returning to the bed. He reached out a finger and traced a line down Lorelai's cheek. "Especially after last night." He bent forward and pressed a warm kiss to Lorelai's lips, but for the first time Lorelai didn't feel the tingle when he kissed her. Why was he giving her a drawer?

"What…what you mean?" she asked, evading a second kiss. A cold feeling was growing in her stomach, a feeling she hadn't felt for years, not since before Luke, when she had been navigating the tempestuous dating world and encountering men who wanted to take her off the market while she wanted to be free.

Christopher laughed. "I think you know what a drawer is, Lor," he said, sounding amused.

"Right, but…"

"But what?"

"But why are you giving me a drawer?"

The light in Christopher's eyes dimmed. "Don't you want one?" he asked, a hint of confusion creeping into his voice.

Lorelai's heart began to pound uncontrollably. "I…why do I need one?" she asked, trying to think calmly as panic began to set in.

Christopher's eyebrows knit together. "It's not about need, Lor. I just thought it would be nice." He spoke evenly, but Lorelai could sense the hurt. "I mean," he continued, injecting a little laugh, "I've seen your dresser drawers, and they're packed to the brim with God knows what." He took a breath. "I guess I thought it -- maybe it would be nice to give you some space of your own. Here."

"Oh."

A strange silence descended over them, and for the first time ever with Christopher, Lorelai found herself thinking very hard about what to say next.

"I just thought it would be easier, you know, when you come over. You'd already have things here," Christopher added, sounding deflated.

"Chris, I don't need --"

"I know, you don't need to say it."

Lorelai gathered her thoughts and took a breath. "I mean, this was -- last night was -- it was a little unexpected, the way things happened. I was upset, and it was raining, and I never meant to stay here." She stopped abruptly at the hurt look on Christopher's face. If she had slapped him across the face, it might have produced the same expression. Guilt flooded her conscience, and she quickly tried to think her way out of that awful feeling.

"I mean, that's why we have the rules, right?" she said, trying again. "So -- so these things don't happen. So we know where we stand."

Christopher stared at her as though he were seeing a completely different person, the familiarity in his expression gone. "So last night, you didn't want any of that to happen. You didn't mean any of it, it was all a mistake."

Lorelai flinched at his bluntness. "Chris, that's not what I meant," she said, willing him to believe her.

"Well, then, what did you mean, because that's what it sounded like to me."

"Chris, you were there for me, and I'm glad you were, and I'm so grateful for everything you did for me, but I didn't mean -- I don't mean for you to…." She trailed off. "Can't we just be what we've always been? Without drawers and -- and we have our own lives? I thought that's what we both wanted."

Christopher stared at her, the long seconds dragging by an eon at a time, his expression reminding her of a computer crunching numbers. Finally, life -- at least a semblance of it -- returned to his eyes. "Yeah, Lor, you're right," he said mechanically. "You're right, we were having a good time, it's what we said we wanted. Why change anything?"

Lorelai looked at him cautiously. "So we're good."

"Yeah, good. Great. So great."

"Okay, well, I should get going. I've got a lot to do, you know, turning this whole Ashley Benton thing around, because I really don't need to be at the top of Mitchum's hit list for the rest of my career, and I have people to call, and I don't even know if Rory tried to call and I don't want her to worry because I didn't come home last night, and…." She finally ran out of things to ramble about.

"Yeah, I'll let you get dressed," Christopher said. He grabbed a shirt out of his dresser and pulled it over his head as he walked to the door.

After he exited the room, Lorelai slipped out of bed and put her clothes back on. She felt strangely leaden, which disgruntled her because she felt she ought to feel relieved instead. She and Christopher were on the same wavelength. It was reasonable that he had gotten a little confused about their relationship, she rationalized. It had been a passionate night; it made sense that maybe some wires got crossed. But his face…she had never seen it so stony, so drained.

Maybe he was just tired, she told herself. After all, it had been a pretty intense night. And she didn't know him nearly well enough to know every single one of his moods, or how he would react to different situations. Usually he was so easy-going. Probably what he needed was some time to decompress, go jogging or hang out with Mike, and then he'd be back on track.

Christopher was not in the kitchen or the living room when Lorelai emerged from the bedroom. Instead, there was just a note taped to the front door saying that he had gone to get coffee and to let herself out if he wasn't there. She touched the letters briefly; she had only seen his handwriting a few times before, yet it was somehow very familiar to her. She pulled the note from the door and stuffed it into her purse.

She didn't encounter him in the hallway, or the elevator, or even as she started down the sidewalk outside the building. As she got into a taxi, she thought of Luke. See, this was why the idea of her with Christopher really wouldn't work. Luke had been able to anticipate every thought and need that Lorelai had, at least the important ones, and that was the sort of thing that was essential in a relationship. Christopher just didn't know her well enough. If he had, he would never have offered her a dresser drawer.

************

Rory awoke with her hair plastered to the side of her face and a tiny stream of drool dribbling out of the corner of her mouth.

"Ugh," she moaned, wiping her face with the back of her hand, then wincing because she had quite possibly the worst crick in the neck ever experienced by someone waking up in the morning…

In the conference room at work.

Rory blinked. An empty pizza box and half-full two-liter bottle of now-flat soda sat on the table, along with a pile of greasy, balled-up napkins. She remembered ravenously digging into the pizza after the power outage had ended. Now the sight of the remains made her want to hurl.

She looked at the stacks of papers in front of her. The pages were filled with outlines, sketches, and photos, all products of a long night of work.

She sighed. Of course Logan had gone home, leaving her alone. After the lights had come back on, they had gone back to work, mainly in silence. Logan had barely looked at her twice and had somehow avoided addressing her by name for the rest of the night. As for Rory, she had employed some of her (in)famous killer concentration and had forced herself to think only of the business before her, rather than the hot sensation she felt in her fingertips where Logan had held her hand so briefly.

They had worked for hours like little machines, speaking in brief, clipped sentences and exchanging notes rigidly. Then Logan had gotten another call from Isabel around one in the morning, and he had hurriedly left the room. In his absence, the only sound in the room had been the hypnotic buzz of the fluorescent ceiling lights. By that time, Rory had already been rather sleepy, and in her fatigue, she had convinced herself that she could take a quick catnap. Except that had been a catnap that had turned into a six-hour real nap, and here she was, still sitting at the same table, completely abandoned.

Anger suddenly flared up inside her. She was done with Logan. DONE. This time she meant it. What good did it do her to keep giving him more chances? What did she think she would discover about him that no one else, apparently, had, in all of his twenty-some years on the planet? Yes, there had been times she had felt something between them, moments that had transcended a boss/employee relationship, moments where she had thought she'd seen the veil slip -- but he was still with Isabel, and next week he'd probably be with someone new, and she was still going to be Rory Leigh, the girl who slaved away for him and had nothing to show for it other than frazzled nerves and a bruised heart.

She pushed back her chair and stood. After stretching her sore body, she began to clean up the room. The pizza box and soda bottle went into the trash, the pens were gathered back into their cylindrical container, random papers were collected and sorted. Rory organized all of the remaining materials into their proper folders, adding labels as necessary, and soon she had a neat stack in front of her.

She took a moment to look at the pile of colored folders. Those folders represented weeks of work…weeks of nights with Logan…laughing with him, chatting with him, admiring the mind of a natural in advertising. But it was done now. They had their pitch, and all that remained was selling it to Mitchum. Logan had no need of Rory now, and it was definitely for the best.

She began to gather the folders in her arms when the conference room door swung open, startling her.

For a second, Logan Huntzberger stood staring at her. His hair was a mess, his clothes rumpled, and Rory was pretty sure that she saw upholstery marks in his cheek. If she hadn't been so angry at him and at herself, she would have been charmed.

"Oh, my God, you're still here," he said, looking as though he didn't quite believe that it was Rory in front of him.

"Surprise."

Logan rubbed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. "I thought you went home."

"Nope."

"You didn't…you didn't sleep here, did you?"

Rory gave Logan an exasperated look, and he immediately recognized his blunder. "Okay, okay, dumb question. This is what happens when I spend the night on a stylish but uncomfortable sofa." He rubbed his eyes again. "Look, I'm sorry. I really did think you went home."

"Nope, I've been here, in this room, all night." Rory studiously avoided looking Logan in the eyes. "Um, here's the final stack of information for our presentation. It's color-coded, so you shouldn't have any trouble finding what you need. I think Mitchum is going to eat this up with a spoon, I really do. So, good luck or break a leg or whatever they're saying these days."

She shoved the folders at him and snatched up her purse, but before she could get to the door, Logan stopped her.

"Rory," he said.

Feeling trepidation creeping over her, Rory turned around. She pressed her lips together, daring Logan to speak first.

"Rory," Logan said haltingly, "I want to apologize for you spending the night here."

"I kind of got the picture."

"I don't want you to think I abandoned you."

"I don't think that."

"Look, I took the call from Isabel, and she talked my ear off, and then I sat down on the couch in my office and the next thing I knew, I woke up feeling as immobilized as the Tin Man."

"Okay, well, good to know." Rory spun on her heel again.

"Rory, wait."

Exhaling heavily, Rory turned around again.

"I'm not done," Logan said.

Rory folded her arms across her chest.

"I'm not done apologizing to you."

"Okay."

Logan's cheeks flushed a little pink. "Last night…during the storm." He gazed at her, as if he were judging whether or not to continue based on Rory's expression.

Against her will, Rory's heart leapt in her chest, and her stomach twisted into a knot before she could even take another breath -- if she could ever take another breath.

Logan must have found her expression sufficient, because he continued, "Rory, I crossed a line, and I shouldn't have. You know what I'm talking about."

Barely able to move, Rory nodded. At the moment, her brain was overloading with -- with -- she didn't know what, but it was a miracle she could even stand. At the same time, she realized that Logan believed he had made a mistake, and the blow was crushing in a way she had never anticipated.

"I know you know about my reputation. Hell, you've helped advise me with at least two girlfriends --"

"Three girlfriends. Possibly four, but I don't know if that last one qualified."

"Three girlfriends. And I know that when I first arrived here, I got around the office. It's okay, it's true. All those rumors, true. Well, except that one about the monkey. That was a damn lie. But the rest of it, incredibly true."

Logan paused to clear his throat. "But the thing is," he continued, "I'm trying not to be that guy anymore."

"That's good," Rory heard herself say in the distance.

"And I don't want to be that guy with you. The office should stay the office."

Rory nodded.

Logan continued to gaze at her intently. "Maybe…maybe if things were different, and I wasn't…." He drifted off, as if realizing that he might have said too much. "But we're colleagues, and you're still the finest copywriter I've worked with, and I'm going to try to do my best to live up to my position as your boss. In every way, I want to live up to that position." He looked at her expectantly, almost eagerly.

"Well, I'm glad to hear it," Rory said, trying not to choke on her words. "I think -- I think being professional is the right choice. The good choice. And it's good to make good choices."

"Good."

"Good." Rory looked at the stack of folders. "Well, you've got the folders. I think it's going to work."

"You're not going to present with me?"

"Logan, you're the face of the future of this company. Mitchum wants to see if you can fly. You should show him you can fly. On your own."

"But what if I'm not ready to be pushed out of the nest?"

"I'm sure Herbie can help you. He does have his good points," Rory said, once more heading for the door.

She didn't dare look back as she walked out of the office. At the moment, she was having difficulty understanding how she could feel pain when every nerve inside her felt dead.

************

Lorelai arrived home late at night to find Rory in pajamas on the couch, surrounded by empty microwave popcorn bags.

"Kid, what is going on here?" she asked, incredulous that meticulous Rory could create such a picture of…of…well, of sloth.

"Men suck," Rory said as Lorelai plopped herself down on the couch next to her. "I suck."

And for the first time, Lorelai got the entire story of what had transpired between Rory and Dean and what feelings Rory had been harboring for Logan.

************

After Rory went to bed, Lorelai stayed up, deep in her own musings. She hadn't imagined that Rory had had so much going on in her life -- and she felt a little guilty for not telling Rory her own story.

Christopher had been weighing heavily on her mind all day -- interrupting her when she was trying to get in touch with Tad to make him reconsider his treachery, taunting her when she spilled her coffee down her blouse, following her when she'd gotten on the bus. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had hurt him far beyond what he had shown, and it was making her miserable. _But it's his own fault,_ she argued back with her conscience. _He read more into things than he should have. He's the one who forgot our arrangement. He should have known._

_But isn't it possible that you gave him reasons to act as he did?_ that prickly voice needled. _Christopher knows you._

_Not well enough_, she countered, bristling. _And I never wanted more with him, anyway._

_Oh, really?_ the voice questioned. _So you're okay with other women perceiving him to be fully available?_

Instantly the picture of Sherry Tinsdale appeared in her head. _Christopher can do what he wants, when he wants,_ she insisted, shoving aside the image of wily, flirtatious Sherry. _He's an adult. He can make his own choices._

_I have no doubt about that_, said the voice.

She jumped when her phone started ringing with Christopher's familiar tone. Her first impulse was to answer it so she could hear his voice, but it was quickly superseded by a stubborn desire to wait. If Christopher had something important to say, he could leave a message.

The phone stopped ringing, and a minute later, it beeped to signal that a voice mail had arrived. Lorelai quickly snatched up the phone and dialed the number to access her messages.

_"Hi, Lor, it's me. Listen, I just wanted to talk about this morning. I -- I feel terrible, and I just wanted to talk. To you, I want to talk to you. So if you're up, give me a call. I'll be up. Okay, bye."_

Lorelai clicked her phone off and stared at the wall. Christopher sounded so subdued, so…almost defeated, it seemed. It struck her as horrible to hear him sound like that. But, she immediately thought, he would get over it. He would understand. He would realize that the right thing to do would be to keep their relationship as it had been, one free of dresser drawers and spending the night. All she had to do was give him space, and things would go back to normal.

Besides, she was going to be busy with work.

Christopher would understand. He always did.


	13. New Directions

**CHAPTER 13 - NEW DIRECTIONS**

Lorelai closed the folder she'd been working on and sighed. Sometimes it seemed as though work would never end.

_Who am I kidding,_ she thought ruefully to herself. _You don't work for a Huntzberger and expect any down time._

Three weeks had passed since that fateful night in the rain, when she'd seen her future nearly go up in smoke when she'd lost the Ashley Benton account. The intervening days had seen her working like a madwoman, trying again to get Tad to listen to reason while simultaneously updating her CV in case she needed to shop it around. But fate, for once, had chosen to smile on her, too: a week ago, she'd gone to her usual coffee shop and had struck up a conversation with a woman in line. It turned out that the woman was the head of a well-known cosmetics line. She'd liked Lorelai so much that an hour later, Lorelai had gotten a call from her office, and twenty-four hours later, Huntzberger & Stiles had landed the account.

The first product that Lorelai would be in charge of marketing was a new line of lipsticks that were supposed not only supposed to last for twelve hours at a time, but maintain a high sheen gloss as well. Lorelai and Rory had been overwhelmed with glee when the company sent over several large boxes of sample products from the entire line. That night they had given each other makeovers with all of the new lipsticks, blushes, and eyeshadows and had laughed until their stomachs hurt.

"I look like the fifth member of Poison!" Rory had exclaimed when she'd seen the colorful job Lorelai had done to her face.

"Hey, the eighties are coming back!" Lorelai had defended herself. Then she had seen herself in the mirror.

"Not even Lady Gaga would go out looking like this in public," she had told Rory, who only smiled innocently.

"At least you don't have soda cans in your hair," Rory had pointed out.

"It's a bummer when I'm thirsty," Lorelai had quipped.

"I'll drink to that," Rory had said, and they'd raised their beer bottles and clinked the necks together.

Lorelai looked at all the different stacks of papers on her desk. The biggest stack was for the lipstick. She'd assigned her top copywriters to the job, and they'd churned out a number of different takes on the topic, ranging from sleek and sophisticated to quirky and playful. The company had been vague about what it wanted for this product. "Surprise us," they'd said. As a result, Lorelai had decided that they should go in to their next meeting with at least four different campaigns. Now she was regretting that decision somewhat.

The smaller stacks were for the other accounts in her portfolio. There was the noodle account, which was simple enough; it was a staid brand that had been with H&S for years and wasn't looking for anything that rocked the boat. There was the chewing gum ad that she'd reluctantly assigned to Colin and Finn. Their copy had been so mediocre that she was going to have to ask one of her other writers to doctor it. She could have strangled them when she'd read their copy and remembered their proud faces when they'd handed it in to her. Fortunately for them, she'd been far too busy to take time for that luxury.

Busy, busy, busy...it seemed like she did nothing but go to work and come home and sleep these days. _But that's advertising,_ she reasoned with herself. _You have to expect long hours sometimes._

But deep down, in the fleeting quiet moments that popped up far too often during the day, and in the sleepy awake moments at night before she fell asleep, she knew that that wasn't the real reason she'd been so busy.

It had been two weeks since she'd lost the Ashley Benton account, and it had also been two weeks since she had seen or talked to Christopher.

He had called her that first night, wanting to talk, but she hadn't returned his call. The guilt of hurting him had been too fresh. She'd thought that time was the answer, that their feelings would cool off and that normalcy would be restored. But the longer she'd put off contacting him, the harder it seemed to be to pick up the phone. Where at one time she'd never thought twice about what to say to him, she now felt tongue-tied and awkward trying to decide how to begin a conversation. The best option seemed to be not to call at all.

But tonight she was feeling restless. Rory was going on a blind date and wouldn't be home, and the prospect of sitting alone in their apartment with only the television to keep her company seemed too sad. Lorelai eyed her cell phone sitting on her desk and thought of Christopher's laugh and the warmth of his body and how good his arms felt wrapped around her.

She missed him.

With a fresh burst of determination, she grabbed her phone and dialed his number before she lost her nerve. As she waited for him to answer, her pulse thudded in her ears, she silently prayed that he would pick up the phone so she wouldn't have to leave a message; she didn't trust her mouth to utter any intelligible sentences.

A flood of relief washed over her when she heard his voice. "Lor?" he answered, and she quickly analyzed his voice for any signs of strain or artifice. He sounded a little uncertain that it was her, but that was understandable.

"Hi, it's me," she said in a rush. "How are you?"

"About as well as a person can be doing when he's just saved the world from imminent doom, so I'd say pretty good, minus a few bumps and bruises."

Lorelai smiled at his casual humor as she felt a twinge of a strange ache in her heart. She really had missed him. "A few bumps and bruises? I thought you said your job was so safe a baby could do it."

"Well, I was speaking metaphorically about the bumps and bruises. Not about saving the world, though. That part was completely literal."

"Well, the world appreciates your heroism."

"I had a feeling it would."

"So," Lorelai said, and suddenly she felt as though her mouth was stuffed with peanut butter.

"So...?"

Lorelai tried to calm her beating heart. "So, um, are you busy tonight? Because I was thinking maybe you could come over and we could watch some movies or just, you know, talk or whatever. Um, because Rory's not going to be there because she's got a date, and, um, I thought it would be nice."

"So you want to 'talk or whatever'? What's the whatever?"

Lorelai could hear the teasing in his voice and felt her cheeks start to burn. "Um, you know, whatever is whatever. It can be whatever it is."

"Sounds very specific. I'll have to check my schedule and see if I can fit whatever in."

"Chris!"

She heard him chuckle on the other end of the line, and a burst of hopefulness soothed her frayed nerves. "I actually do have something going on tonight," Christopher said, sounding slightly more serious, "but I can swing by your place for a while. How does eight sound?"

"Eight sounds great," Lorelai replied, unable to suppress an exultant grin. He was going to come over! She was going to see him! After the phone call ended, she was definitely going to get up and do the Elaine Benes dance.

"Okay, I'll see you then."

"Yeah, see you then."

Lorelai clicked her phone to end the call and sat for a long moment, grinning into the distance. Things weren't ruined between them. That stormy night had just been a bump in the road.

Life, she decided as she leaned back in her chair, was back on track and better than ever. She'd brought in a huge new account, she'd gotten back into Mitchum's good graces, and Christopher was a part of her life again.

She glanced at all the papers on her desk. They would just have to wait until tomorrow. She had to get home so she could take a shower. And figure out what to wear. What would she wear? What would Christopher like to see her in? Which perfume would be the most advantageous?

Her mind sifting through her closet, she didn't notice when she got in the elevator that she was humming "Like a Virgin" by Madonna, or that everyone else was staring at her.

* * *

Rory sighed as she gave herself one last look in the mirror before heading off for her very first blind date.

"Look sharp, Rory Leigh," she chided herself softly. The reflection in the mirror looked well-dressed, but the expression left something to be desired.

Well, it was all Paris's fault, anyway.

After finding out that Logan had no plans of ever, well, ever being more than what he currently was to Rory - which was her _boss_, Rory reminded herself - Paris had taken matters into her own hands.

"Really. This is the twenty-first century and you're hung up on your boss. Really. Rory, do you want to set feminism back a century? Why don't you go hang out barefoot in the kitchen while you're at it?"

It had been, if not a comforting talk, at least a wake-up call of some sorts. The next day Rory had woken up determined to put Logan behind her. A fresh start.

It hadn't been easy. For one, there was the fact that she still worked for him, and she still had to see him every day.

Seeing him might not have been so bad, except that Logan had apparently taken his vow to treat her strictly as an employee to heart. Rory hated to admit it to herself, but it stung to see him look at her as though she were any other copywriter. It was as if all of those nights working together on the pitch had never happened...all of those times she'd caught him looking at her...the time that he'd held her hand in the dark and started to say things that had made her heart leap.

But that was the past, Rory told herself. She was a new person now, a person who was professional and didn't think about romance.

Romance didn't seem to be her strong suit, anyway. Things hadn't worked out with Jess, hadn't worked out with Dean, and were never going to work out with Logan. She just had to face the facts: if not for work, Logan's life and her life would have no reasons to intersect. They were just two completely different people and as such, necessarily had completely different lives. Therefore, there was no point in wasting any more time thinking about him.

If only it had been that easy. When a stunning blonde (why were they always blonde?) had shown up with a briefcase and a short skirt and sashayed into a closed-door meeting with Logan, everyone in the office had come to Rory for the inside scoop, believing her to be in Logan's inner circle. When Rory couldn't tell them that she knew anything, the office gossip had caught fire and taken on a whole new life of its own. When the blonde started showing up regularly for unscheduled meetings, the gossip grew even juicier. So much for Logan turning over a new leaf.

Unfortunately, Rory had talked to Paris on one of those days, which had led to quite the ear-lashing. And that had in turn led to the date that Rory was about to go on.

"He went to college with Doyle's cousin, so he's been thoroughly vetted," Paris had informed her. "While he may not be quite the silver spooned rich boy that your dear Ricky Schroeder is, he's still got a lot going for him. He's got an MBA and works for one of the biggies in town, and he's looking to settle down. He doesn't smoke, got all of his college debauchery out of the way while actually in college, and he doesn't care for dogs that fit in your purse. In this city, those are pretty sterling recommendations."

And so Rory was heading out to meet Robert, he of the respectable credentials.

A quick cab ride later, Rory found herself standing outside Cactus, a swanky hotspot on the Upper East Side. It looked very high end and more than a little intimidating.

"Look sharp, Rory Leigh," Rory muttered to herself. It wasn't much of a pep talk, but it'll have to do.

Just as she was about to put her hand on the door, the door swung open and Rory's heart nearly stopped.

Exiting the building were Logan Huntzberger and the blonde. Logan looked shocked to see Rory standing in front of him but quickly put on a smile.

"Rory Leigh, what are you doing here?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Rory's eyes darted between Logan and the blonde, whose name, office gossip had revealed, was Jana. "Oh, I'm meeting up with someone."

"Hot date?" Logan sounded nonchalant, but his eyes remained watchful.

Rory straightened her shoulders. Now was the time to show Logan he'd lost any hold he'd once had on her. "As a matter of fact, yes."

"Wow, good for you! That's excellent."

Rory tried to keep her smile pasted on her face. Damn Logan and his ability to sound effortlessly casual at all times! "Yeah, I really think it is. I think Robert and I are going to have a really good time tonight. How did you and Jana like Cactus?"

"Robert? His name's Robert?"

"Huntz! I thought I heard you calling my name," a voice interrupted. Rory turned and saw a tall, thin, dark-haired young man walking in their direction. He was a little pale but had the unmistakable look of good breeding and privilege. And he seemed to know Logan.

"Robert Grimaldi, they let you out of that prison they call a consulting firm?" Logan said, grinning and giving Robert a slap on the back.

A light went on above Rory's head. So this was the Robert that Paris and Doyle had set her up with! The world suddenly seemed very small.

"Hey, don't knock honest work. Not everyone can ride Daddy's coattails," Robert shot back. His eyes swept by Rory and Jana. "I see your New Year's resolution hasn't slowed you down any."

Logan grinned. "It's not what you think. Rory here works for me, and Jana and I are...something else."

Robert spun to look closer at Rory. "Rory? You wouldn't happen to be Rory Leigh, would you?"

Rory blushed. "The one and only."

Logan pointed between them. "You haven't met before?"

"Not at all," Robert said.

A knowing smile spread across Logan's face. "Interesting."

"But I'm very glad we're meeting now," Robert said, training his eyes on Rory's face. "Your picture does not do the reality justice."

"This is a set-up?" Logan asked.

"Mutual acquaintances," Robert said.

"So it's a set-up," Logan said, looking at Rory.

"Some of us have a vetting process, Huntz," Robert said. He raised an eyebrow at Logan. "Isn't that your driver waiting?"

Rory looked over and saw a man in a dark suit standing next to a Bentley.

Logan grinned at Rory and Robert. "Well, Jana and I have other work to attend to. Have fun, you two."

Rory and Robert watched Logan and Jana get into the Bentley. Then Robert turned to Rory. "Well, this is an interesting turn of events. You work for Huntzberger?"

"Guilty as charged," Rory admitted.

Robert chuckled. "Logan and I go way back. We were rivals in elementary school, junior high, prep school, college, and now in the society pages. Still are. Probably always will be."

Rory found herself smiling. Although Robert wasn't her type, exactly, there was something easygoing about him. And he was being straightforward instead of cryptic, unlike Logan. "Well, he can use some competition," she told Robert.

Robert smiled at her. "I'm sorry, I'm forgetting my manners. Robert Grimaldi," he said, extending his hand.

"Rory Leigh," Rory said, shaking his hand.

"Well, Miss Leigh, shall we dine? My father is good friends with the chef. I'll make sure you get whatever you want, so long as we can be at a prominent table so everyone can see that I'm here with the most gorgeous girl in New York."

He pulled open the door to the restaurant and ushered Rory in.

As they walked inside, Rory's phone buzzed with a text message. Frowning, she pulled it out. She rolled her eyes when she saw that it was from Logan.

_Just warning you, Robert's a jerk._

Rory sighed. What was his problem? Before she could decide how to respond, her phone buzzed again with another message.

_And he likes to get handsy. Don't let him get handsy. From personal experience, I can say it is highly unpleasant._

"What's wrong?" Robert asked as they were being seated.

Rory quickly put her phone away. "Oh, it's nothing. Just someone stupid sending stupid messages."

Robert gave her an amused look. "You can tell Huntz to go and shove it. I'm not a jerk, and whatever groping he thinks I did to him, that wasn't me. That was Finn. Unfortunately it was before camera phones were really big, so I don't have any incriminating video."

Rory giggled. She had never met anyone before who had Logan's number - or this many juicy details about him. "You sound like you've got a lot of good stories."

"I do," Robert agreed, "but I'd rather talk about you. So what has Huntz got you doing for him? Please don't say it's his laundry."

Rory smiled as she looked at Robert. Wasn't this easy? Just talking to someone without going crazy trying to figure out what he really meant? Without trying to repress any inconvenient feelings? She could feel herself relaxing by the second. Maybe this is what she really needed.

Maybe Robert was what she really needed.

Feeling hopeful, she made a mental note to call Paris up and thank her.

* * *

At eight o'clock, Lorelai knocked back a bottle of beer, taking a long swig of the cold beverage. Her nerves were making her crazy, which in and of itself was crazy, because it was just Christopher coming over. At least, that was what she had been telling herself for the past few hours, yet she still could barely think straight. Thank goodness he wasn't here yet. She had to compose herself.

She pulled the dress she had chosen from its hanger and began to slide it on. It was a knee-length, slinky black number that clung like Saran wrap. Its main selling point, however, was a prominent and decorative zipper in the back. Ever since Lorelai had discovered how much Christopher loved unzipping her out of dresses (and how much she loved it when he did), she'd made a point of buying dresses with zippers. She turned and examined herself in the mirror, then smiled. The dress looked _good_. _She_ looked good, too - as she should have after spending an hour on her hair and makeup.

Snagging a pair of mile-high stilettos from her closet, she trotted to the living room, which, by her standards, was fairly clean. She bent over and straightened up a stack of magazines and fluffed a few pillows on the couch. Putting her hands on her hips, she surveyed the scene. What else needed to be done? The answer came to her immediately: candles.

She quickly scampered into the kitchen and found some matches in a drawer, then darted back to the living room, where she proceeded to light the several candles that she and Rory had stashed around the room but rarely ever lit, due partly to forgetfulness and partly to laziness. As she dimmed the regular lights, a tingle of anticipation tickled her spine: the room now looked soft and intimate.

Feeling satisfied, she plopped herself down on the couch and put on her stilettos. They weren't the most comfortable shoes, but they made her legs look a mile long. And Christopher did love her legs. She picked up her bottle of beer and finished off the rest of it as she imagined how the rest of the evening would go. Christopher would knock on the door, and she would answer, and he would see how amazing she looked. Before she could say anything, he would kiss her, hard, pulling her roughly against his body, almost knocking her off-balance. They would kiss hungrily, wantonly, wrapped in each other's arms, and then they would sink to the floor because they couldn't wait, and then...

Lorelai roused herself with a little shake. God, Christopher needed to get there, she thought, biting her bottom lip. She had forgotten just how much she craved him at times. _Mama's gonna scratch that itch,_ she told herself. _Just you wait._

As the minutes ticked by, Lorelai became restless, then nervous. She looked at the clock: it was eight thirty. Christopher was a half hour late, and he hadn't called or texted. She picked up her phone and stared at it. Christopher wasn't flaking, was he? Her heart pounded rapidly. Would he flake on her? Maybe he got caught in traffic. Maybe something had happened, and he wasn't able to reach her right away. Maybe... She decided to give him five more minutes before contacting him.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a heavy knock on the door. She quickly stood to her feet and approached the door. "Chris?" she asked uncertainly.

"It's me, Lor," came the muffled reply.

Lorelai's heart leaped at the sound of Christopher's voice, and, hands shaking, she unlocked the door for him.

As he stepped inside, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. He looked devastatingly handsome - and incredibly hot - in a blazer and jeans that showed off his long, lean legs. His white button-down shirt was unbuttoned just far enough to give a hint of his chest, and Lorelai thought of all the times she had run her fingers through the soft hair that covered it. A hungry ache swept through her, and it was all she could do to restrain herself from tearing at him.

She looked back at his eyes to see if the lust she felt was reflected there, but his expression remained strangely impassive.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, keeping his distance from her.

"It's okay," she replied. A small feeling of dissatisfaction coursed through her that he hadn't reached out and pulled her close, but she waved it off. "You're here now, that's what matters."

He nodded shortly. "Is Rory around?"

"No, she's out on a date. Guess it's just you and me, hope you can handle that," Lorelai said, giving Christopher a mischievous smile. She waited for him to make a move, but he remained rooted where he had entered. She noted his eyes taking in her appearance, yet he offered no playful remark showing that he very much appreciated her efforts. Had their three weeks apart killed his confidence? Did he need encouragement, a reminder that she still wanted him, that nothing had changed? Was he waiting for her to make the first move? "You look nice," she offered, watching his expression carefully.

"Yeah, you too," he replied, but he sounded detached.

Deciding that a little encouragement was the best mode of action, Lorelai stepped forward and placed her hands on his chest. "I'm glad you're here," she said softly. Parting her lips, she tipped her face up and kissed him on the mouth. Immediately warmth coursed through her, traveling down to her fingertips and toes. "I missed you," she breathed as she pulled away.

She looked into his eyes again, and this time she did see an emotion; his blue eyes were stormy, desire straining against some other emotion she couldn't read. "Lor..."

"Shh," she said, sliding her arms around his neck and pulling herself close. She felt the heat from his body, and it infused her like a warm, heady drink. "No more talking," she murmured. Lowering her eyelids, she kissed him again on the mouth, her lips warm and seeking.

With a soft, relenting groan, he returned her kiss, parting his lips against hers. Exultation coursed through Lorelai as they kissed passionately, boldly exploring each other's mouths. As they tasted each other again after weeks of drought, her head spun with dizzy desire. He was delicious and masculine and his tongue was making her body throb in all the right places. A small moan escaped her lips as he slid one hand into her hair and the other around her bottom, pulling her hips tight against his. She arched and wriggled against him, wanting to feel more of him, and he groaned low in his throat and clutched her closer. She giggled at his response to her provocation and kissed him again fully. As their breathing grew heated, she trailed her hands to his waist and tugged his shirt up, sliding her hands against his warm, velvet skin. His muscles tensed at her touch, and she thought he had never seemed so sexy. Needing more, she quickly pulled his belt loose and began to slide her hand inside his jeans, but Christopher suddenly jerked back.

"Lor, Lor, wait - don't," he choked out.

"But I want to," she murmured in protest, reaching again for him.

"No," he snapped, pushing her hand away, and Lorelai recoiled in shock at the sharpness in his tone.

"No," he repeated, this time more gently. He shook his head as though to clear it and sighed as he tucked in his shirt and refastened his belt. "This isn't why I'm here. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..."

It was as though he'd shoved a dagger in her stomach, and Lorelai unconsciously moved her arms to cover the invisible wound. She stared at him, unable to form any words, as he ran his fingers through his hair and sighed again.

"Let's sit down," he said, taking her hand and leading her to the couch.

Lorelai's mind raced as she tried to figure out Christopher's strange behavior. He wanted her, he'd missed her; she knew he did by the way he'd kissed and caressed her. He had even dressed up to come over. He had to have known why she'd called him. But if he'd known, then why was he acting this way? Why did he say it wasn't the reason he was there? Why was he rejecting her? Was he angry at her? Was he playing a joke? _It must be a joke_, she told herself. It was the only possible explanation. The couch _was_ more comfortable than the floor. She forced a smile as she sat down next to him. For good measure, she flipped her hair over her shoulder to give him a good view of her neck.

But Christopher didn't return her smile. His eyes were oddly grave as he turned her palm up, rubbing his thumb over it, caressing each of her fingers as though trying to memorize them.

Lorelai's brows knit together at this strange seduction move. Had Christopher watched some weird movies while they'd been apart? She scooted closer to him and placed her hand on his thigh. "Chris, what is it?" she asked, rubbing her hand gently along the denim.

"Lor, stop," he said, putting his hand over hers to still it. He moved her hand back to her lap and gave her a pained look.

Lorelai looked back at him in confusion. His rejection stung. What was going on?

"I started seeing someone," he said flatly. "I came over here to tell you. We had always said that if one of us started seeing someone...that was one of the rules. I thought I should tell you in person. I just...didn't think it would be this hard." He gave his lap an ironic look. "No pun intended."

Lorelai moved back on the couch as her hand covered her mouth. For several seconds she couldn't say anything as Christopher's words repeated themselves in her head. _I started seeing someone...I started seeing someone...I started seeing someone...one of the rules...thought I should tell you in person._

She stared at her hands in her lap as an icy chill spread through her body, numbing her emotions.

"You started seeing someone?" she managed to say. She thought of all the time she'd spent preparing, all of the excited butterflies in her stomach, how she'd specially chosen the dress she was wearing. She was such a fool! Idiot! Moron! She hadn't even thought of him seeing another woman. She'd never thought he _would_ see another woman.

"Yeah," Christopher replied, sounding uncomfortable.

"Have you...have you been seeing her a lot?"

"It's our second date tonight."

"Oh." Lorelai tried to process the news. "And you like her a lot?"

"Yeah, I do. I like her."

"That's good." A new, horrifying thought occurred to Lorelai. "Have you and her - have you two...?" She left the rest of the sentence implied. Actually voicing the words would have been too hard. She shouldn't have asked at all, but she had a burning need to know.

Christopher shifted uncomfortably. "No, but...that's why I wanted to tell you beforehand. We had an agreement, and I know it's important to you, so...I thought I should tell you."

Lorelai nodded dumbly. "Well, that was good of you to do that. I - I appreciate it."

Christopher slid his palms down to his knees. "Yeah, well, I guess I should get going then. We're meeting - we're supposed to meet at nine thirty."

Lorelai glanced blankly at the clock. "Yeah, you don't want to be late."

"No, that would be bad." Christopher stood up.

Lorelai stood as well and walked him to the door. "Well, have fun tonight."

"Yeah. I think we will." Christopher paused and looked at Lorelai. "Well..."

Lorelai squeezed out a tight smile. "It was fun."

"Yeah, it was fun. A lot of fun. Maybe we can grab lunch sometime."

Looking into his eyes, Lorelai knew that they wouldn't be grabbing lunch in the future. It was, she realized with a pang, probably the last time they would see each other, barring a random encounter. He didn't want to be her friend, and she honestly didn't want to be his, especially knowing that he was seeing another woman. Being friends, the two of them, it just wasn't possible. It was good that it was ending this way, she reasoned. It was a clean break.

"Yeah, lunch would be good," she told him.

He hesitated a moment, looking as though he was trying to decide if he should kiss her good-bye or not. "Well, good-bye," he said, opening the door.

"See you around," Lorelai said, watching him go.

She closed the door and leaned against it, letting her head fall back as she closed her eyes. So that was it. That was the end. Christopher was gone.

She opened her eyes and look at the candles' flames dancing in the dim light, no longer romantic, now just pointless. She moved quickly around the room, snuffing them out, until thin wisps of smoke curled up from the wicks.

She sat down on the couch and flicked on the television, clicking rapidly through the channels, desperate for something to watch. Faces appeared, mouths moved, voices spoke, but it all seemed like noise to her.

She got up and stalked back to her room, her heels pounding the floor. When she got inside the room, she tore off her shoes and hurled them into her closet, listening with a kind of sick satisfaction as they smacked the wall. She reached for the zipper of her dress and yanked it down, suddenly feeling allergic to the fabric. She couldn't wear that dress anymore, it was stifling her, suffocating her.

She shimmied out of the dress, balled it up, and threw it back into the closet with the shoes. She didn't care if it turned into a wrinkly mess.

For a moment she stood in her underwear, not sure what to do next, not sure if her emotion was sorrow or anger or numbness. Then, suddenly, her jaw began to quiver and her shoulders began to shake as hot tears started to roll down her cheeks. She sank to the floor and let the sobs empty her of all emotion.

When she couldn't cry anymore, she slowly stood and looked around at the mess in her room. She couldn't be there anymore. She had to get out.

Quickly pulling on a pair of workout pants and a T-shirt, she pulled her wavy hair back into a ponytail and headed for the elevator.

Once outside, she began to walk. It didn't matter where. She had no destination in mind; all that mattered was movement, walking, letting her feet take her away.

The smell of coffee tickled her nose, and as she rounded the corner, she saw a little cafe where couples were having dates at tables under umbrellas. A pang went through her, and she ducked her head as she hurried straight ahead -

- And right into a chest.

"Hey, watch it!" a male voice cried, and Lorelai looked up, startled.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she apologized, trying to be as quick about it as possible.

The owner of the chest didn't move out of her way, however, and peered curiously at her.

"Lorelai?"

Lorelai looked up and realized that the man was - "Max?"

Max Medina smiled down at her, his inquisitive eyes probing hers. "So once again, fate brings us together."

Lorelai forced a smile. "It would seem so."

"You know, this is rather impromptu, but if you're not headed anywhere, I'd love to have you join me for coffee." Max paused, as though sensing the reservation in her expression. "You look like you could use a friend."

Lorelai looked again into Max's eyes. His soft brown eyes were filled with that ever-present interest that she always recognized, but there was caring and warmth, too. And tonight she could use some of that. "I'd like that," she said, a tiny smile curving her lips.

Max grinned widely. "After you," he said, motioning with his arm.

Lorelai smiled at him again, and as she entered the cafe, the soothing aroma of coffee filled her senses.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Thanks for your patience. Hopefully I'll be able to post chapters more frequently, especially because we're heading down the final stretch.


	14. Raise Your Glass

**CHAPTER 14, PART 1 - RAISE YOUR GLASS**

"I propose a toast," Max Medina said, raising his wine glass. He turned to his side and looked at Lorelai. "To Lorelai Gilmore, who has made me ridiculously happy these past six weeks, and" - he turned his gaze to the other side of the table - "to Rory Leigh, without whose interest in my book I would never have had the chance to fall so hard or so fast."

Lorelai felt her cheeks heating as her eyes met Rory's, the other girl's eyebrows raised in an unspoken question. To avoid having to answer, Lorelai quickly looked back at Max and smiled.

"Hear, hear," Robert Grimaldi spoke up from next to Rory. He looked at Rory admiringly. "It's always my pleasure to toast a beautiful woman."

This time it was Lorelai's turn to scrutinize as Rory's cheeks reddened. Rory quickly raised her glass. "Cheers!" she said brightly, and the others raised their own glasses and clinked them together.

Lorelai watched Rory carefully as she downed her wine. Robert's feelings about Rory were obvious; his face practically glowed as he looked at his dinner companion. Rory's feelings, however, were a little more obscure. While she had admitted to Lorelai that she enjoyed Robert's company, she had also noted that she had yet to see Robert even wear a pair of jeans. He seemed perpetually suited, even in his down time, which just seemed...odd. In Lorelai's opinion, Robert had perfect manners and the ease associated with wealth and privilege, but she agreed that there definitely was something overly formal about him.

As for herself, Max had been nothing less than a perfect gentleman toward her. He was punctual, patient, and warm, always picked up the check, never complained if she was running late, and had a wealth of compliments at his disposal at all times. Lorelai had found him to be highly intelligent and able to converse on a variety of topics with a depth that was out of reach of most people - which often included herself. When Max would talk in detail about a piece of art or a matter of public policy, Lorelai would find herself tuning out and then cracking a joke to get the focus back on something fun. It was a pretty effective strategy; Max usually laughed and complimented her, and then they would banter a bit before moving on to the next topic.

One of the upsides to dating someone as cultured as Max was, well, the culture. Max knew every museum inside and out, every theater, every jazz bar, every five star restaurant. He read three newspapers a day and was addicted to his Twitter stream, which featured every prominent news reporter in the country, as well as many around the world. He had an endless network of contacts, all of whom sang his praises and opened their doors to him, whether for a VIP table at the newest hot spot, or front seats to an up-and-coming designer's fashion show, or bypassing the line to get into a small but exclusive poetry reading. With Max, there was always something going on, and Lorelai was enjoying being swept away into his world.

Not that she hadn't had to make some adjustments since they had begun dating. She had practically had to buy a new wardrobe in order to fit in with his intellectual crowd: more knee-length wool skirts and smart jackets. Her high-fashion advertising look was out of place in Max's favorite haunts, as were most of the sexy dresses she had bought when she had been seeing Christoph - the dresses she had bought before. And she couldn't exactly say that Max had the greatest sense of humor. He enjoyed laughing at her little jokes and quips, but she had been noticing lately that the reverse was not so true. It was very different from Christoph - from other men she had known, with whom her cheeks would start hurting from smiling and laughing so much.

She wondered daily whether Max might be the one. She realized now that he was exactly the type of man she had envisioned when she had finally broken things off with Luke. Max was intelligent, cultured, and mature. He was respected and well-liked and had a prestigious job. He was versed in the finer things in life. And he clearly admired her very much.

She was glad she had given him a chance, especially after everything that had happened with Christopher. In a way, all of that seemed in the distant past. It had been a phase in her life, and she was glad to leave it there. Christopher had moved on, she had moved on, and things were as they should be. The less she thought about him, the better. She had Max now. Max was the guy she needed to focus on.

And yet Christopher crept in unbidden, anyways. Lorelai still felt her heart pound when she thought of the intensely hot dream she had had after only dating Max a short while. Perversely, it had been the same night that Max had taken her on a wonderful date to Radio City Music Hall. Having told Max she wanted to take things slowly because she felt he was someone she might want around for a long time, Lorelai had gone to bed alone. But in her dream, she was not alone, because Christopher had been with her, murmuring wild things, doing wild things, bringing her to animalistic ecstasy. She had awakened in a jolt, shaken and sweaty. But the images remained.

She blamed the dream for tainting her against Max's kisses. When Max kissed her, no blazing fire erupted inside of her. His kisses were nice, warm, fun...but they never made her feel out of control. It had to be the dream. No one's kisses could match up to that experience.

* * *

After they had finished dinner, Robert invited Lorelai and Max to join him and Rory on his boat, but Max declined.

"Why didn't you want to go on Robert's boat?" Lorelai asked as she and Max walked back to Lorelai's apartment.

Max slid his arm around Lorelai's waist. "I thought the kids could use some private time."

"But it's a boat! Boats are fun. Especially when you drink on them."

Max chuckled. "That is true," he agreed, "but I don't think they needed us old folks tagging along."

"Hey! Who are you calling old?"

"You're adorable, you know that?"

"No, seriously. Who are you calling old?"

They approached the front steps of Lorelai's apartment building, and Max stopped and turned to face Lorelai, taking her hands in his. "Actually, the real reason I turned down Robert's invitation is that I wanted some alone time with you."

Lorelai's heart skipped a beat. "Really? Hey, Lightning McQueen, I thought we had an agreement about taking it slow."

Max moved closer and wrapped his arms around Lorelai. "Oh, I'm dying to come up and rock your world, but I'm respecting our agreement."

An unexpected wave of relief washed over Lorelai. "Okay," she told him, "because I would have to call in Aretha to have a chat with you if you didn't."

"But," Max continued, "I do have one trick up my sleeve to wear down your resistance."

Lorelai's ears pricked. "Oh?"

"Yes. You see, I've been invited to the Mayor's Ball, which, as you know, is one of the biggest events in the city, and many, many fine people are going to be there, and which, as you may not know, is going to be held at a very fine, very old, very glamorous hotel. Now, my idea was to invite you as my date, and then afterwards, we could go upstairs and, respectfully, of course, share a room. What do you say to that?"

Lorelai's heart raced. The Mayor's Ball! Max had correctly identified it as one of the biggest events of the year. Lorelai had longed to go, but the only people she knew who ever got invited were Mitchum and old man Stiles. And now she had a chance to go! "Yes!" she said immediately to Max, not caring how overeager she sounded. "I will skin you alive if you dare take anyone else."

"Ouch," Max said, looking thrilled that Lorelai had said yes. "I take it my charms have won you over?" he asked, a huskiness in his voice.

Lorelai looked into Max's face. _He really cares about me,_ she thought. _He would do anything for me._ The thought comforted her, and she felt a surge of warmth toward him. "You're on your way," she said softly. Raising her face to his, she kissed him. His arms tightened around her, and she could feel his heart beating against her chest. As their kiss began to intensify, she gently pushed him away. "Good night, Max," she said.

His expression was hungry and yearning as she turned to enter her building. "Good night, Lorelai."

* * *

Lorelai had never loved a dress as much as she loved her gown for the Mayor's Ball. Rory laughed at her during the days leading up to the ball because she tried on the dress every day. But the dress! It was so magnificent that Lorelai thought it was a waste not to put it on at least once a day. It was pink and full-skirted and perfect, and she had never felt more glamorous in it.

On the day of the ball, she took the afternoon off work and went to a spa to get pampered. A few hours later she emerged with her hair in a sophisticated knot, with pink opal nails to match her dress, and a radiant face.

"Oh, Gilmore!" Rory breathed when she saw Lorelai finally emerge in her dress. "Are you riding away in a pumpkin tonight?"

Lorelai swished the skirt of her dress. "I don't know, I may not be back until well after midnight."

Rory's eyes widened. "Oh, that's right!" she exclaimed. "Do you think you're ready for...that?"

"I think I've made him wait long enough," Lorelai said with a grin, but no sooner were the words out of her mouth than the memory of that rainy, passionate night with Christopher flickered through her mind. A small frown creased her forehead, but she quickly pushed the thought to the back of her mind. "I think we can do some teacher-student role-playing."

"Okay, that is way too much information," Rory said, but her eyes followed Lorelai's carefully, as if scanning for a sign.

"I mean, he's extremely attractive," Lorelai continued, walking to a mirror and examining herself again. "It's not every day you meet someone who's good-looking and smart and sane all at the same time."

"Very true."

"And as far as I can tell, he seems to be pretty into this" - Lorelai indicated herself - "so that is most definitely worth bonus points."

"So you're definitely falling for him."

"How could I not be falling for him? He's practically perfect. He is exactly the kind of man I need to have in my life right now."

"'Right now'?"

Lorelai shot Rory a look. "What do you mean, 'right now'?"

Rory came and stood next to Lorelai. "What do _you_ mean, 'right now'?"

Lorelai shrugged impatiently. She had a feeling that Rory was going to bring up an unpleasant topic, and she preferred to avoid it if possible. "Okay, I didn't mean 'right now' as in right _now_ 'right now.' I meant it as a general now." She busied herself primping some more in the mirror.

"Gilmore," Rory said, seemingly undeterred, "I just want you to make the right choice for you."

"Rory, Max _is_ the right choice for me."

"It's just...you never really mourned your relationship with Christopher."

Lorelai froze. "Chris and I...what I had with Christopher wasn't a relationship, Rory. You know that. There was nothing to mourn. I told you he started dating someone else, and that was that."

"But you cared about him."

"Well, yes, but I also care about _People_ magazine. _Us Weekly_ is just too frivolous."

Rory folded her arms across her chest. "It's just, I think Max is great, and you and Max are really good together, but I just don't want him to be a rebound."

Lorelai stopped and turned to Rory. "Rebounds occur after relationships. And I didn't have a relationship," Lorelai said icily. "Look, can we just drop it? Max is going to be here any minute."

"Okay, fine," Rory said, backing off. "Just...have a good time tonight."

"I will," Lorelai promised her, as they both heard Max's knock at the door.

* * *

Lorelai gripped Max's arm excitedly as they entered the hotel ballroom. The old, elegant design with its high, vaulted ceiling made her feel as though she were entering a fairy tale castle. Wine goblets stemmed elegantly from spotless white tables dotting the perimeter. On the stage, a setup for an orchestra had been assembled.

"I can't believe I'm actually here!" she whispered to Max. All around them swirled a crowd filled with famous faces, and every person was dressed as though it were Oscar night. Lorelai could barely stop gawking at each familiar face.

"Well, you'd better believe it, because I want you to help me rub it in people's faces that I've got the most gorgeous date in the entire place," Max said, beaming as he looked at Lorelai.

Lorelai smiled back at him. "Fred Astaire wishes he looked as good as you," she replied, noting his tuxedo.

As they made their way to the bar, they stopped several times for Max to greet someone he knew and introduce Lorelai. In the span of twenty minutes, Lorelai had shaken hands with the chief of police, a municipal judge, and a famous stage actor.

"Is there anyone you don't know here?" Lorelai asked Max as he handed her a flute of champagne.

"I'm sure we'll run across a few," Max reassured her, smiling.

As Lorelai sipped her champagne, she gazed around the room. She noted a familiar actress and her husband, a former politician, and - her heart nearly stopped as she caught a glimpse of a tall, handsome, brown-haired man in a tuxedo.

Certain she'd been mistaken, she craned her neck to catch another glimpse, and then her heart really did stop.

_Christopher_.

Immediately, Lorelai's heart began to race, and she felt hot and cold at the same time. Christopher! What was he doing here? If anyone had been the last person she expected to see, it was Christopher. Lorelai tried to compose herself, but her lungs were having trouble inhaling air.

He was smiling and talking to someone Lorelai couldn't see. Surreptitiously, Lorelai scratched her neck and moved a few steps to the left to get a better glimpse of his companion, and her heart stopped all over again.

For there, hanging possessively on Christopher's arm, was Sherry Tinsdale, looking impossibly sophisticated in a sleek, floor-length black gown and matching gloves that went above the elbow, looking very much like a modern-day Audrey Hepburn.

Unconsciously, Lorelai sucked in a tiny gasp as she stared at the other woman. What was _she_ doing here? Was she his girlfriend? Was Sherry the reason Christopher had stopped seeing her? The room started to go blurry.

Max turned away from an athlete who had stopped to say hello, and put his arm around Lorelai's waist. "Do you see someone you know?" he asked.

Lorelai jumped slightly at his touch. "Yes - I mean, no - not really," she lied, but Max's eyes lit up as he followed Lorelai's line of vision.

"Oh, my God, Sherry," he said, a pleased note in his voice.

Lorelai stared at him. "You know Sherry?"

Max looked surprised. "Do _you_ know Sherry?"

"No - yes - I mean, I met her once, but -"

"Well, let's go and say hi," Max said, prodding Lorelai in Sherry and Christopher's direction.

Lorelai tried to protest, but her throat had gone suddenly dry as they drew nearer and nearer to Sherry and Christopher. She tried to think of an escape route, but her brain seemed to have shut down. _Christopher is here - Christopher is here - Christopher is here,_ her mind echoed brokenly.

"Sherry Tinsdale!" Max said jovially, outstretching his arms to Sherry.

Sherry's eyes widened in delight as she turned and saw Max. "Max!" she exclaimed, giving him an air kiss on both sides of his face. "It's been far too long!"

"How long has it been?" Sherry asked.

Max paused to think. "At least two years."

"My God, two years. It's just unthinkable. We need to schedule lunch."

"Absolutely."

As Max and Sherry traded greetings, Lorelai dared to glance at Christopher. Her heart stopped as she took in his long, lean form in his tuxedo. He looked impossibly handsome, especially with his hair grown out just long enough to form sexy waves that begged for her fingers to run through them. Her cheeks flushed as hot, molten images from her dream flashed through her mind, and she had to force back every impulse she had to run away and hide, as if everyone could read her mind.

_Oh, God, what is wrong with me?_ she asked herself, stricken at her thoughts. She glanced at him again, wondering how he would act, and for a brief moment, his eyes met hers. In that instant, she saw recognition, shock, and pain flash by, then immediately a curtain fell, and his expression became placid.

"Sherry, you've met Lorelai before," she heard Max say, and then she found herself extending her hand to Sherry, who shook it warmly.

"Of course I remember Lorelai," Sherry said, her voice dripping with a sweetness that made Lorelai feel ill. "It's so good to see you again."

"Same," Lorelai managed to croak out.

Max seemed delighted that Lorelai and Sherry knew each other. "So how did you two meet?" he asked.

"We" - Lorelai began to say, but Christopher cut her off.

"I was working at a video game expo that Sherry helped organize, and Lorelai was there with me that day," Christopher interjected.

"Helping," Lorelai added. "I was helping."

Max looked confused. "I'm sorry, you're -?"

"Christopher Haden," Christopher said, shaking Max's hand. "Sherry's boyfriend."

"The most wonderful boyfriend," Sherry added, gazing up adoringly at Christopher.

Max still looked confused. "Lorelai, did you used to work in video games?"

"No! No, I was just -"

"Lorelai was just there as a friend," Christopher clarified.

"So you two know each other as well?"

"We -"

"We've hung out a few times," Christopher said.

The casual way he downplayed their relationship felt like a slap in the face to Lorelai. "Hung out a few times"? All of the torrid evenings they had spent together were now reduced to "hanging out"? Was that all it had been to him?

Max didn't seem to notice any of Lorelai's inner turmoil. "Well, any friend of Lorelai's is a friend of mine," he said, sliding his arm more tightly around Lorelai's waist.

Lorelai immediately noticed Christopher's eyes darting to her waist. "And you and Lorelai are dating?"

"We just celebrated six weeks," Max said proudly.

"Six weeks," Christopher repeated. "Congratulations."

Max squeezed Lorelai. "I'm the luckiest guy in the world. Hey, why don't we share a table?"

"Oh, that sounds wonderful!" Sherry exclaimed. "We were worried that we might be on our own tonight."

Lorelai pasted on a smile as she noted how tightly Sherry was holding on to Christopher's arm. "Yeah, a table sounds great."

* * *

"No, he left our organization six months ago," Sherry said with a laugh as Christopher refilled her wine glass.

"Well, I'm sure he'll resurface somewhere," Max said, chuckling. "You can't keep a guy like Crazy Cam down for long."

Lorelai straightened in her seat and pushed the remains of her dinner roll around her plate. To her annoyance, Max and Sherry had turned out to be onetime colleagues whose connection went back years. So far they had rehashed the gossip on at least a dozen different people. To Max's credit, he had attempted to bring Lorelai into the conversation, but Sherry had a very interesting habit of steering the focus back to people Lorelai didn't know. Even more irritating, Sherry continually had her hands all over Christopher, touching his shoulder, stroking his arm, caressing his face, or touching his hair. It made Lorelai want to scratch her face off. Why did Sherry have to make such a production of it? She and Christopher were together, fine. But she didn't have to shove it in Lorelai's face. It was almost more than Lorelai could bear. Not only was she trapped in what had become a very boring dinner party, but it was coupled with the nightmare of seeing Christopher out with his new girlfriend.

It seemed obvious now that Sherry was the one Christopher would have chosen to date. Lorelai had known, with all of her feminine intuition, that Sherry had been after Christopher. And, being the type of woman who was used to getting what she wanted, Sherry had pounced the minute she saw an opening. And Christopher, being a man, had fallen right into her trap.

But the worst thing was not learning the identity of Christopher's new girlfriend, Lorelai was discovering. It was the realization that Sherry was Christopher's _girlfriend_. The woman he was now intimate with. Until now, it had been easy to dismiss Christopher's girlfriend as a nebulous shadow, a faceless person who was more an idea than reality. But now...now there was a flesh-and-blood person in front of her, a person who touched Christopher with all the possessiveness and exclusivity afforded a girlfriend. A person who got to have Christopher's arm around her shoulders, and his hand holding hers, and his smiles and laughter and jokes, and at night, his passionate embrace. For Lorelai, seeing Sherry and Christopher together was like having a knife twisted in her stomach. She couldn't look at Sherry and not wonder if Christopher kissed her the way he had kissed Lorelai. And if Christopher murmured the same things in her ear that he had murmured in Lorelai's. And if Christopher did the same things behind closed doors with her that he had done with Lorelai, things that made her toes curl and drove her crazy with desire.

And he had the gall to act as though Lorelai had been nothing more than a casual acquaintance! When the food came, he politely asked Lorelai to pass the salt, and when she did, he thanked her and then gave Sherry a squeeze and a quick kiss on the cheek! If Lorelai had had a sword in hand, she would have gladly driven him straight through for that.

Realizing that her emotions were starting to boil over, Lorelai tried to tune back into the conversation.

"I have to say," Max was saying, "you two seem so well-matched."

"Oh, well, Christopher is just a dream to get along with," Sherry replied, giving Christopher another adoring look. "I just knew from the moment I met him that he was going to be someone very special to me."

"I'm just trying to live up to her level of perfection," Christopher corrected her, chuckling.

"Oh, stop," Sherry said, giving him a loving swat before meeting his lips for a peck.

Lorelai felt her stomach churning, and she coughed loudly to cover the taste of bile that hit her tongue. "Excuse me, I'm going to run to the ladies' room," she said, and quickly rose from her seat.

* * *

In the bathroom she splashed some water on her face and gripped the countertop until her knuckles turned white. Her face looked white in the mirror, and she wondered when she'd started resembling a zombie. Her eyes, usually sparkling, seemed completely at odds with her beautiful gown and glittering jewelry.

"Get a grip," she muttered to herself as she pulled some powder out of her clutch. The night would be over soon enough. She would just tell...oh, no, what was his name? For a second she panicked, realizing that she couldn't even remember the name of the man she'd been dating for six weeks. Max! That was it, Max. She would just tell Max that she wasn't feeling well and they needed to cut their evening short.

She dusted the powder over her nose and felt better when she saw her improved reflection.

As she walked back into the ballroom, she decided to stop at the hors d'oeuvres table. After she had filled her small plate, she hesitated, trying to decide if she should get another plate. After a moment, she decided to go for it, and after loading up a second plate, she turned only to narrowly avoid bumping into Christopher.

"Hey," she said, feeling that she had no choice but to address him. As awful as it was to see him with Sherry, she suddenly realized that it was even worse to be talking to him alone.

"Hey," he said.

She expected him not to say more, but he continued, seemingly oblivious to her desire to leave. "This is some shindig, huh."

"Yeah, it sure is," she said shortly, hoping that he would get the hint that she didn't want to talk. He was close enough that she could smell his cologne, and the memory of kissing him made her stomach ache so badly that she winced.

"I mean, this is fancy stuff. I attended a dozen cotillions in my day, but this leaves everything in the dust," he said, piling some shrimp onto his plate.

"Definitely."

"Of course, to Sherry it's old hat. She's been a regular here for years. I tell you, I've never met someone with such a photographic memory for names. Some of these people she hasn't seen for years, but she never forgets. She even remembers the names of spouses and kids. It's crazy. I asked her if she could bottle some of that stuff for me and..."

The longer Christopher talked, the more nauseous Lorelai felt. That he could stand here, chatting so casually with her was beyond unfathomable. The spacious ballroom began to feel tight and closed, and Lorelai felt that if she stood there another second, she would either pass out, retch all over the place, or both.

"I'm sorry, Chris, I can't do this," Lorelai interrupted, dashing past him to the hallway.

"Lor!" she heard him call after her.

He found her in the corner near the kitchen doors. "Lor! Lor, what's going on?" he asked, genuine concern in his voice as he put his hand on her shoulder.

Lorelai wiped her eyes and shrugged him off. She couldn't let him touch her. "I'm sorry, Chris, I have tried all night to be okay with this, and I'm not."

Christopher looked perplexed. "Okay with what?"

Lorelai looked at him in exasperation. "This! Tonight!"

"I'm sorry, I just don't get it."

"Of course you wouldn't."

"What? What is wrong? Lorelai, did I do something? You have to tell me!"

"Everything! You're here, with _her_, and you're just _so_ casual about everything, it's like you barely even saw me before! Did it ever occur to you that flaunting your new girlfriend around might be uncomfortable for the rest of us? That I have feelings, too?"

She looked up at him as the tears trickled down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand, sure she was smearing makeup all over her face, but she didn't care. She waited for him to apologize, but his next words shocked her.

"Oh, that is really rich, Lor," he snapped, his blue eyes sparking angrily. "I'm flaunting Sherry? _I'm flaunting Sherry?_ I'm only doing what you wanted me to do, so that is really rich of you to accuse me of making you feel bad."

"Oh, so it's my fault now? You can do whatever you want, but it's my fault if I don't like it?"

"Yes, it is your fault if you don't like it! You cut me loose, Lor. You made up the rules, you wanted rules, and I stuck by them. And when I realized that you were too stubborn and too selfish to give us what we both wanted, I got smart, and I moved on."

"Oh, I guess you're so smart, now that you know what I want! You have no idea what I want, Chris, because if you had, you wouldn't have shown up here tonight and you would have told your girlfriend to stop slobbering all over you in public!"

"It's always about you, isn't it, Lor? You made a bad choice, you're miserable, and now you don't want anyone else to be happy!"

"I never said I didn't want you to be happy, I want you to show some respect!"

"Why? Because you showed so much respect to me? Making love to me for months - don't interrupt, you know what it was - and then dropping me like a bad habit when you got scared, and then thought you could just pick it right back up when you felt lonely again? If that's respect, then by golly, sign me up for some of that!"

"Chris, I had a lot going on in my life when -"

"You don't get to treat me as an option, Lor, and then demand that I show any loyalty to you afterward. Do you think it's been any fun for me to sit there tonight, watching Professor Plum moon over you as though you're the eighth wonder of the world? Who, it turns out, you've been dating since the moment I told you it was over? Gee, I wonder what that looks like! Either you had a toadie waiting on the hook or you really are as delusional as it looks, trying to trick yourself into believing you might actually be falling for the first guy you laid eyes on!"

"I had met Max months before we ever began dating!"

"So I guess it's just convenience that you finally saw the light at the same time I started seeing Sherry!"

"It's no more convenient than you picking the low-hanging fruit just because you didn't hear from me for a few days!"

"And I bet you told Max all about how low you hung with me, right?"

Lorelai recoiled at the barb, and fresh tears stung her eyes. "Well, now we know why I'm with Max. Because he has class. He would never speak to me like you just did."

"Well, if it makes you feel better to call it class, then -"

"Go to hell!" Lorelai screamed at him. "Go to hell, and take Sherry with you!"

Christopher glared at her and then shook his head. "Three months ago I was so in love with you," he said quietly.

Then he turned and walked away.

As Lorelai watched him go, she realized her whole body was trembling. She took a moment to try to compose herself, but her hands would not stop shaking.

Finally she felt stable enough to walk to the restroom, where she did her best to fix her ruined makeup.

She returned to the dinner table to find Max alone. His face brightened when he saw her.

"What happened to you?" Max asked. "I've been waiting for my gorgeous girl to get back here so I could show her off on the dance floor."

A sudden rage filled Lorelai. What did Max know about her? What could Max ever know about her? All he cared about was looking good and knowing the right people. "I'm not your girl, Max!" she shrieked wildly at him. "I haven't even slept with you yet! And if you call me your girl one more time tonight, I will go buy a gun just so I can shoot you in the face!"

As she stormed away, she realized she didn't care what Max thought. She could get Max back. She could already hear him running after her, calling her name.

"Take me home," she said when he caught up to her.

"But what about -"

"Just take me home," she ordered him.

She had some mourning to do.

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** RL fans, I didn't forget about Rory and Logan. They'll be in Part 2 of this chapter. :)


End file.
